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razrbladekiss · 2 months ago

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LOVE BITES | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: its been two years since joel broke your heart, and now you’re thrust into the most awkward situation imaginable. no thanks to tommy, of course.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k, literally pulled this outta my ass in an hour.

WARNINGS: angst. joel is a bit of a jerk and so is tommy but reader can hold her own. 🤭 tiny bit of fluff. plenty of dialogue to scratch the itch inside of my little pea brain!

“What can I getcha?” You call over the music, leaning against tacky wood as you greet yet another inebriated middle aged man. Your tits shine beneath dim light—highlighted with perspiration, liquor and the purple glitter that Cassie thinks’ll get you more tips—and you smile. “Bud Light?”

“Please, doll.”

Your eyes roll. The pet names are one of the worst parts about working at Fuel, but you suppose it’ll never subside. It’s sleazy, here. The place teems with parasitic men—old, sweaty metalheads that’ll never touch a bar of soap even if you bribe them—but they pay your bills with the gratuity they slip into your pocket, so you find it in yourself to tolerate it.

Plus, every so often an attractive stranger comes in and fills your evening with something more interesting than a story that usually starts with “were you even born when this song came out?”

It’s not clear why you’re targeted behind the bar—you’re not the youngest and certainly not the chirpiest—but you surmise that these figments of the male species must have some sort of affinity for being bitched at. Because as soon as someone says something even slightly misogynistic, you’re coming down on them like a wall of fucking bricks.

You’re outspoken. Kind of brash. But it makes for great conversation with some hot guys every so often.

Fuck this shit.

Feigning that internal indignation—and yearning for some kind of drama—you resume your work.

“There ‘ya go, Gil.” You pop off the cap, handing him the bottle and offer a smile. He takes it with a nod, bumbling away from the bar and you turn away to dry some glasses.

It’s busy, but not Saturday night busy. It’s wall-to-wall, but it doesn’t seem as tightly-packed as usual. You’re not rushed off your feet, you’re not being overrun with strange and usual orders from men whose eyes are needing to be held open with toothpicks, or the odd underage girl that managed to slip past Dean while he was checking ID’s.

Something is off.

And it isn’t for the fact that the same three Motörhead songs are playing on a fucking loop, either. Something is looming.

Something a little bit more tense.

“Hey.” Cassie tips her head in a nod toward the crowd while pulling the beer tap. “Look who just walked in.”

You squint your eyes. It’s a struggle to heed any new faces, for the light is so dim and room full of cigarette smoke, but you scan nonetheless.

“I can’t see.” You tell her, taking a few glasses from atop the bar to wash. “Is it that hot guy you always flirt with?”

Her cheeks turn thirteen shades of crimson. She shakes her head.

“No. He’s in Cancun with his wife.”

“Oh.” You say wryly. “So, he’s not interested in you then?”

She blinks in your direction. “We had sex on Thursday.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “Oh.” You repeat your earlier tone. “So, you’re his side piece?”

“Yes. And happily so.” Cassie slips the beer to her patron, and turns to you with an elbow propped against the sticky wood. “But enough about Luke…Can’t you see him? He’s got the denim jacket on—hair a little slicked back.”

Confused, your gaze drifts into the sea of drunks. You’re drawing a blank.

“Oh my GOD.” She grabs a hold of your shoulders, and turns you toward nine o’clock. “Look!”

You follow her line of sight, still blindly searching. Until he comes toward the bar, and you go through all seven stages of fucking grief as he ambles toward you.

He’s got a face like thunder. Eyes dark, nostrils flared.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” The unyielding grip set against your shoulders is released, though Cassie stays close by. For back-up—and slightly inquisitive—purposes.

Tommy. Fucking. Miller.

You haven’t seen him since the night that Joel broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to surmise that the underlying hostility has died off in the two years that your eyes last met. He was a prick to you, that night.

But you’re not scared of him. Never have been. He’s a pussycat.

Aside from that night, the most confrontation between the two of you came on a very warm summers evening, when Tommy was barbecuing and you told him that his burgers needed a little longer when he tried serving them. He pitched a fit, threw the spatula in the air, and left Joel to take over.

He never could take criticism.

“Get out.” You tell him, hand firmly gripped against the Guinness tap. “I mean it, Miller. Get out.”

He ignores you, taking a seat at the bar and your jaw rolls.

“Fine.” You fake a smile, wanting nothing more than to throw a whiskey sour in his face. “What d’ya want, Tommy? Jack ‘n coke? Bud? A slap—“

“I dunno. But now that I’ve seen you, I want you to call my brother.”

Cassie takes a step back when you nudge her, needing to go through this alone.

“Phone works both ways.” Blunt, you say. You pour him whiskey—neat—despite him not elucidating exactly what he wants. “He’s a jackass, Tommy. I ain’t got time for jackasses no more.”

He rubs his lips together after taking a pull, putting firmly the glass against the bar.

“You left him—“

“Wrong. He broke up with me.”

“You left him.” Tommy repeats himself. He’s getting agitated, now. “He didn’t really want you to go. He didn’t mean to say all that he said—“

You scoff, throwing a dish rag over your shoulder.

“Well, he said it. He kicked me out.” You start, ready to reel off all the bad things Joel did to you. “He blocked my number, told everyone that I left ‘cus I was never happy with anything—“

“He loved you, and you were just a spiteful bitch.” Tommy defends, slightly more brash than what he once was.

“Wow. You’ve grown a pair of balls since I last saw you.”

“Oh, fuck it off with the mean shit.” He growls, staring pointedly at you. “You’re not like this, so stop pretending.”

You put a few glasses away beneath the bar, and stick clean scoops into the ice cube tray.

“I was crazy about him, he didn’t need to give me anything more than what he already did, Tommy.” With a small voice, you tell him. “We all know that.”

Tommy runs a hand over the back of his neck. But you’re not willing to argue the case any further—not with a man who downs his liquor in one single shot.

“So, is this why you’re here, huh? To spend the entire night chewin’ me out? ‘Cus if you are, then you can fuck off. I get enough shit from the assholes that come here every night.”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t on my agenda. Didn’t know that ‘ya worked here, so I guess its been a lovely experience for the two ‘a us, ‘ay?”

Your eyes roll. You pop the cap off another beer for Gil as he stumbles toward you, handing it to him while taking his cash at the same time.

“And why are you here? ‘Cus I didn’t peg you down to be the heavy metal type. That was always reserved for—“

Your face falls. This time, your heart actually starts to pound within the constraints of its ribcage, and you feel nauseous. You’re lucky that no glass is held tightly beneath deft fingertips, or else you’d be having to sweep the shards of it off of the floor.

“Joel.” You murmur as he pads over to Tommy.

He leans against the bar, looking at his brother. He mumbles something about this place being a dive, how loud it is, and that he needs to be getting back ‘cus Sarah’ll be gettin’ worried if I’m not home before midnight.

You’re blinking at him, but he doesn’t notice you’re standing right there. Not until he pins a cigarette between his lips and fishes about his pocket for a light, but comes up empty.

Joel turns around, patting his shirt and jeans pockets, before his eyes flick upward and mouth gapes open. The cigarette is stuck to his bottom lip by the slick of his saliva, and a sheer stroke of luck.

He yanks the stick from his mouth, before he’s pointing at Tommy with it.

It’s almost comical that Love Bites is playing from the jukebox. Though, it makes a fucking change from Whiskey In The Jar.

“This why you fuckin’ brought me here?!” He barks, and you’re glad that it’s so loud in there or else he’d be causing a scene.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “I didn’t know she worked here!”

“He didn’t.” You cut in, earning a glare from the man whose heart once lived in your pocket. “What? Do you really think he’d put you—us—in this position willingly?”

Joel looks between the two of you, easing the accusatory gesture. He slips the cigarette between his lips again, and you—begrudgingly—hurl a lighter toward him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. He just takes it and sparks the cigarette, cupping the cherry as the light takes.

“You’re welcome.” You snark. Joel slides it over to you without even so much as looking upward. “You’re used to that, ain’t ‘ya? Taking things from me when you’ve got no business to?”

He says your name warning, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes are dark. A lot more dismal, than usual. Saddened, maybe.

And his face is gaunt. Still as handsome as ever, but complexion slightly sallow. Though, you just put that down to the fact that winter doesn’t offer too much sun for him to tan, in Jackson.

“I didn’t do shit to you.” Joel upholds, flicking cigarette ash into the ceramic dish atop the bar. You tense up at his tone. “You wanted more than what I could’ve given you, so we both knew it wasn’t gonna work—“

“I loved you, Joel!” You bark across the bar, leaning over a little. He drops a glance to your tits—exposed and glittering—and swallows thickly the lump in the back of his throat. “I wanted to be with you—get married, start a family—was that such a bad fuckin’ thing?!”

“Y’knew I didn’t want that.”

You blink back the tears that are desperate to push over your waterline, and nod. “But if you communicated that to me earlier on in the relationship, then maybe I would’ve shunned those ideas.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, hating the prickly tension. Because—two and a half years ago—you two were the strongest couple he ever knew. Regardless of the age gap, you were obsessed with one another.

But now you’re strangers, standing at opposite sides of the bar.

“Take a break, hon.” Cassie tells you from a distance and you’re peeling off the waist apron faster than you can even acknowledge what she’s saying.

Marlboro reds are being yanked from the ass pocket of your jeans, and the lighter that you had let Joel borrow is snared firmly within the palm of your left hand.

You storm to the front of the bar—ignoring the friendly crowd of regulars, friends, and new-faces—all the while devoured by this overwrought tension that’s bubbling up from the deepest caverns inside of you.

Joel follows you, reaching for your wrist but you shirk the feeling because it’s turning you sick. Just the sheer feeling of his skin—calloused and rough—ghosting over yours is enough to churn your stomach and force those ill feelings to flood back into your system.

You step outside, the din of much-to-loud music now muffled by the steel doors—only clear when someone walks in or out of the bar—and let your back hit against the brick wall with a dramatic thud.

“Sorry.” Joel says, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“For what, exactly? Dumping me? Making me look like the bad guy, just ‘cus I wanted something?”

He runs a hand over his face, before he’s shifting forward to let a drunken—completely in love—couple pass by the two of you. He joins you up against the wall, his right boot colliding with it.

“I didn’t make you look like the bad guy—“

“Bullshit.” You say. “I see Sarah about town sometimes—she doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore, Joel. I spent five years of my life playing mommy to that little girl, and now I’m like a stranger to her?”

He hates how you’re throwing this back into his face, but he supposes that he deserves it. However, he will not give in to you that easy.

“You never played mommy. She always called you by your first name.” Like he knows it’ll hurt you, he says. “You were just a glorified babysitter, to her—“

“Oh, get fucked!” You bark, teeth clamped together. “You can’t say this shit when you don’t mean it, Joel! You know that she loved me!”

Your words materialize into the saddest tone he’s ever heard from you, and he’s suddenly feeling awful for even musing such a thing. He’s never this mean.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. You’re right, that was an awful thing to say.” Regret depletes him. But it’s too late. Tears are flowing from your beautiful eyes, like a dam that’s burst its way over the river banks, and Joel hates himself for doing this to you. Again.

When he broke things off—and ruined your life—he thought it would be easier to build a wall around himself, and lie to people about the nature of your departure. He told everybody that you left on your own terms, that you wanted things that Joel could never give to you—though, if he had just kept an open mind, then maybe he could’ve.

Because for months after you left his home, he found himself glued to his cellphone, desperate to call or text you to tell you how sorry he was for doing what he did.

That he was too hasty—too fucking mean—to say that he didn’t want a life with you. Because he did.

But it’s too late.

“Piper missed you, Joel.” You wipe away fat tears with the palm of your hand—knowing your mascara has smudged but not being able to find it in yourself to care—and tell him about the dog that the two of you once cared for together. “She sat by the door every morning waiting for you.”

This is killing him. Having you in front of him, but knowing that things will never be the same again.

“She’s four, now.” You smile a little bit. “She didn’t grow any bigger than what a German Shepherd should’ve, but she acts like it. Thinks she’s a fuckin’ rhino, or somethin’.”

Joel chuckles, feeling his own sadness loom in his tear ducts.

“She loves babies.” That maims you, a bit. “Cassie’s sister had a little boy in February. Piper sits by the crib whenever we visit. She would’ve loved being a sister.”

“I bet. She was always such a protective dog.” He stubs out his cigarette, though makes no effort to go back inside. “Especially when it came to you.”

“I’m her mom.” You tell him, blankly. “I feed her. I take her on walks. I groom her. I’m the only person that’s remained a constant in her life since she was eight-weeks old—“

“And I’m sorry for that.” A little stern—not enjoying being discreetly chastised—he says. “But we were never going to work—“

“And you thought that you’d tell me that after five fucking years?” You flick your own roach to the ground now, letting your back peel away from the wall. “Joel, I wasted half a decade with a man who couldn’t see us going anywhere, and you just expected me to be fine with that?”

“You didn’t waste your fucking time with me.”

“I could’ve had a family, by now!” You yell, your cheeks damp once again. Eyes stinging. “Joel, I could be somebody’s mother. Somebody’s wife.”

He feels awful that he’s taken that from you, but surmises that it isn’t too late.

“I know that you did it all before you met me—I know that was something that I was signing up for when I started dating an older man,” you take a breath, “but I thought that you might’ve changed your mind. Because I thought that you loved me—“

Joel grabs firmly your hands and shakes them, getting you to look at him. His eyes plead with yours.

“I did love you.” He breathes deep. “I think there’s a part of me that still loves you. But I couldn’t give you what it was that you wanted—“

You yanked your hands from his grip—for the second time this evening, actually.

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t, Joel? Because to me, it seems like you were scared of committing to me for fear of something bad happening.”

“Don’t—“

“Not everyone leaves, Joel.” Softly, you tell him. “I was never planning on walking outta your life, so I don’t know why you were so scared to commit to me.”

Because I’m fucking insecure?

You look down at your watch, realizing that you’ve been out here far, far too long.

“Look.” You make eye contact with him. You miss the way he so boldly meets your gaze whenever you speak. “I’m sorry that you thought I was too high maintenance—that you’d never be able to keep me satisfied—but I was. There was never a doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have had the best life with you, Miller.”

“But you wanted kids—“

“And I had Sarah. Of course, I wanted to mother my own children, Joel, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It just hurt to know that you didn’t want to give me that, when I was always so willing to do it for you.”

His eyes close slowly, realizing how much of a fucking prick he’s been these last twenty-four months.

“I’m sorry—“

“I need to get back in there.” You say with a small nod, gripping firmly the heavy-set door to the club before you’re stepping inside and leaving Joel completely dumbfounded.

I need to make this right.

It’s twelve forty-three in the morning when you finally amble up your driveway, and you’ve actually never been this happy to see your house before.

The kitchen light dim—though still bright enough to see Piper’s silhouette by the door—fills your heart with an immediate sense of comfort after such a long fucking day.

Carefully guiding yourself up the wooden steps so that you don’t fall, you edge nearer to your front door. But not before your boot is colliding with a little bag perched on the top step.

There’s a tag—your name inscribed—and you feel your face fall. Do you have a stalker?

But any premonition is squashed when you take the bag inside—wary, of course—and open it up. Piper is running laps around you all the while your hands fish around the pink cardboard.

“Oh?” You take out an envelope, and your heart sinks.

It starts with your name, and a little wonky heart next to it. Not to mention, it’s written with a pink gel-pen.

I’m sorry for being a jerk, I’d understand if you hate me. Today was fucking horrible, and I’m a douchebag. Not just for today, but for this whole thing. I’m sorry for making everybody think that you’re a bitch, and I wish that I would’ve told you sooner that I didn’t want children, or to get married again. Now that I’m thinking about it, it doesn’t seem all that bad. I’m also sorry that Tommy was a dick, he said he texted you but it bounced back—must’ve blocked his number. But honestly I don’t blame you. We’re assholes and you never deserved us in your life baby.

Take this card as an apology, if you want to. But take those candies and the dog treats, and have a nice evening with our little girl. I’ve unblocked your number and put my own inside of this envelope, so I hope that you’ll call me and we can make things right again.

Love always, Joel.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, and pull out the dog treats alongside the nerds gummy clusters, and smile. He knows you both so well.

“Here, Piper girl.” She comes barreling over to you, almost sweeping your knees from beneath you. “Look’it what your daddy bought for you.”

Her ears prick up at the mention of Joel, and it’s at this moment that you realize you’ll be seeing him again a lot sooner than what you originally thought.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x afab reader #joel miller x reader #tlou x reader #tlou x afab reader

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fitgirlfemdom · 3 months ago

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This fictional story is a continuation of this story which is a continuation of THIS story.

This fictional story is 18+ and contains: public humiliation?, femdom, weight teasing, overstim, mommy kink, gentle dom, and a happy ending <3

"Logan, we got your favorite."

He glanced up from the couch, surrounded by his nest of empty red Solo cups, soda bottles, empty bags of chips, and empty plates. He had his laptop in front of him, with the newest MMORPG he'd been grinding on for two weeks now. Logan heaved himself up, pulling his glasses from his face and running his fingers through his fluffy locks of hair. He felt half-asleep.

"We also brought your favorite," Cole said from the kitchen.

Logan walked in, wiping at his eyes with the palms of his chubby hands. "What's that supposed to--?"

In walked Anna and Cassie, chatting about something or other. A few other girls and guys emerged, all of them being Cole's friends from work or school. The second Cassie's eyes landed on him, he felt a deep shiver run down his spine. Immediately, he felt his face grow hot. The last time he saw her was when he... accidentally came inside her. She was on the pill, but nonetheless, she was rightfully pissed.

On the kitchen table were bags of food from a local burger place. He watched as Cole pulled out his chicken sandwich with a small helping of fries. He watched as Anna brought out her little dainty salad with chicken strips. He stared dejectedly at the large bag in front of his chair.

Some of Cole's friends said hello, and some just gave him passing glances. He felt underdressed in his tank top and sweatpants.

"Cassie, you remember Logan, right? You guys met?" Cole asked, cluelessly. Logan could feel the girl's eyes on his skin. He couldn't take his eyes off the bag. The last thing he wanted to do was pull out all the food he was planning on eating. It was like some sort of humiliation ritual.

"Oh, I remember," Cassie said low. "I actually was planning on talking to you, Logan--if you had a second."

"Uh..." This couldn't be good. Was it a crime to finish inside someone if they said not to? Was she gonna press charges? Was she gonna kill him? Did he actually fuck up that bad? He couldn't help but stammer, "U-Um, yeah... Sure..."

She beckoned him down the hallway as both Anna and Cole exchanged confused glances.

His heart dropped when they went towards the bathroom, and it sunk further when she closed the door behind them.

"You're gonna make it up to me," was the first thing out of her mouth.

"In, um... In what way?" Logan stuttered, watching as she pulled out a small cylindrical device from her purse. "Is that...?"

"A bullet vibrator."

He held his hands up. "You are not putting that up my ass."

She rolled her eyes. "You're so fucking stupid." She pulled out a few hair ties as well. "I'm gonna strap this to your dick. I can control it from my phone." Without warning, she yanked down his sweatpants, revealing his free cock. He must've forgotten to put on boxers. She smirked. "The vibe might be too big, come to think of it..."

"M-My dick's not that small." He made for it to sound firm and defiant. It did not.

She knelt down and fastened the small, purple device to his cock, jacking it a few times to get it semi-hard. The hair ties were tight and pretty uncomfortable. Seeing her on her knees immediately did the trick--If she'd glanced up at him, he might've leaked.

She stepped back, admiring her work, as she yanked up his sweatpants. His face was bright red. "We're gonna have a nice dinner now," Cassie cooed, her voice domineering and low. "And you're gonna try your best not to embarrass yourself."

"But--"

"I was planning on inviting you three out to dinner," she said, turning to open the bathroom door. "Y'know, so I could see your face when you cum down your leg in an Applebee's, or something."

"Oh, but--"

She cut him off, saying over her shoulder as they walked down the hallway, "You should thank me, though, for being so kind."

He muttered out a stagnant, "...Thank you," as they reemerged in the kitchen, with Cassie as neutral as ever and Logan so red, the other two must've noticed.

What'd happened to him? He would never let a girl ever disrespect him like this before. He used to slap girls in bed, making them call him Daddy as he spat in their mouths. He wasn't a sadist by any means, but he thought that's what guys did. He actually could remember when he made the switch.

It was the summer after high school, when he was still deciding if he was going to go to college, despite losing the scholarship. He met this cute girl at a coffee spot, and they really hit it off. It wasn't until that night, when he really thought he bagged another bitch, that she saw his dick, and audibly laughed. She told him to put it away and drive her home, laughing the whole way.

He realized he was a muscular, handsome, over 6-foot, charismatic guy who looked like he should be on the cover of a magazine, but it felt like it didn't matter. Once he finally let himself go completely, he just kept telling himself that even if he lost all the weight, took care of himself, and got himself back on his feet, self-respecting girls would just laugh at him, and he couldn't take that. Internet girls wouldn't. Internet girls didn't care if he lived or died.

He pulled out the two double-cheeseburgers and large serving of fries from his bag, as well as the chicken tenders and vanilla milkshake. Suddenly, he felt sick, and uncomfortable, and unconfident. As he went to take the first bite of his burger, that feeling changed.

Suddenly, he felt very, very turned-on, and it must've been from the vibe on his crotch.

As Cole talked about his stocks and investments to the others at the table, Logan couldn't help but choke back a moan. The vibe was right up against the most sensitive part of his body, right up against his cockhead, and with the base of it snug against his balls. It was distracting. He glanced over to Cassie, who was smiling at her phone. He watched her drag her thumb upward, and at that moment, the vibrator intensified.

"Fuck," Logan breathed out, taking another bite. He had to pretend it wasn't that, that it wasn't happening. If he just didn't focus on it, it'd be gone, and no one would think he was a total pervert. It'd be one thing if it was just Cole and Anna, but with all these unfamiliar faces, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He almost wished Cassie just pressed charges, or pushed him off a cliff. "Ah, fuck..."

"Something wrong, Lo?" Cole asked, plucking a fry. "Oh yeah, guys--This is Logan. He's a friend from high school. He's our roommate."

He thought he'd slipped by the awkward introductions, but there he was, smiling at the other people at the table, pretending his cock wasn't twitching against his sweatpants.

"I'm fine, just..." He shook his head, trying to laugh it off. "Just got this throbbing headache."

"Throbbing, huh?" Cassie asked, still staring at her phone. She was really messing with the settings, setting the vibrations to a dull murmur before hiking them up to the highest possible option. "You're probably just hungry."

Nobody noticed, but she definitely meant it as some sort of diss. He was the heaviest one at the table, by far, and he had the biggest order. He couldn't lie, though. Being horny did make him hungry, and he couldn't understand why.

As the conversation drifted to someone else, Logan went back to eating his burger. It was pretty good. He was a frequent customer at this place, much to his waistline's dismay. He really hoped everyone else hadn't noticed how much he was moaning while eating. At one point, when he was finishing his tenders, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He really hoped no one noticed that.

His cock twitched. He was uncertain if he was going to make it through this meal without shooting ropes down his chubby thighs. He must've been making a scene--A few of the girls he didn't know at the table were snickering amongst themselves.

"Are you okay, Logan?" one of them--a particularly pretty, blonde one--asked. She was smirking behind her hand. They must've known something incredibly humiliating was happening. Maybe they could hear the vibrator. Maybe it was because he was sweating like a horny pig. Maybe it was because his nipples were so prominent against his stained tank top. Maybe, maybe, maybe--He was losing his mind.

He knew Cassie would be pissed, but he didn't care. He rose to his feet and left, unannounced, to the bathroom. He had to get this stupid vibrator off, before--

He made it halfway down the hallway before he fell to his knees. He bit on his wrist to stifle a moan as he came, with the streams of cum seemingly never-ending. It must've been twenty seconds before it was over, as the vibe continued to torture him. The front of his sweatpants, and bottom of his gut, were stained and sopping wet. When he opened his eyes, he saw Cassie staring down at him.

"You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would," she said flatly. He slowly rose to his feet, using the wall as support. He felt so sensitive, so vulnerable, and the vibe just kept stimulating him, on and on. He was still leaking.

"Cassie, I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did that the other day," he breathed out. He couldn't look her in the eye. "I... You were just so pretty, and I..."

"You just had to blatantly overstep my boundaries?"

"No, that's not--" He watched as she raised the intensity on her phone. "Fuckin' hell--Turn it off."

"I don't like your attitude." She pushed him down the hallway, and with the vibrator so strong against his cock, he couldn't put up much of a fight.

They were back in the bathroom again.

He fell to his knees on the tiled floor as she locked the door. Every muscle in his body was contracting. His head was pounding. He started gripping at his waistband. "That's it--I... I can't--"

"You disobeyed me." She crossed her arms over his full chest.

"I... I did," he admitted, tears stinging his eyes. "I'm sorry. It just... You said you'd punish me if I did it, and it..." Her arms lowered. "I... Fuck it, I like being punished by girls like you."

She was silent, and her expression was completely neutral. "...What?" she asked at last, lowering the intensity of the vibe.

Logan covered his face. "I like getting talked down to. I like being humiliated. I like getting slapped around by pretty girls. It turns me on. And... And I just figured, y'know, whatever you'd do to me... It couldn't make my life any worse."

She was silent. He didn't know what could possibly be going through her head until she knelt down in front of him on the floor. They were level to one-another. She pulled down his sweatpants and unstrapped the vibe, throwing it off to the side.

"You're probably right about that," she sighed, finally making eye contact. "Your life is pretty shitty." Cassie looked askance. "Maybe I should go a little easier on you." She met his eyes. "Against the sink."

"What?"

"Lean against the sink, facing the mirror."

He did as he was told, standing to see his gross self in the reflection. She was so much shorter than him, and so much more petite, but he watched as she forced him down to bend over the counter, taking his cock in her hand as she jerked him off. She leaned against his back.

"You're still so hard," she cooed, stroking him softly and slowly. He bit his lip as he stared down the drain. "I want you to cum again. Can you do that for me?"

"Y-Yes..." he breathed out. This dynamic was new to him. He'd never even treated a girl like this, much less be on the receiving end.

"Just focus on me stroking you." He couldn't help but whine. "Focus on me milking you dry. Focus on my soft hands."

"O-Okay..."

"Everyone's outside, eating dinner," she whispered sweetly, "And you're in here, being a good boy for Mommy."

There was that word again. It made his stomach flip.

"Aw, sweetie..." She wiped at his lip with her other hand. "You're drooling."

"It just... It feels good, I'm sorry," he breathed out.

"That’s okay, baby… Does it feel that good?”

“Y-Yes, it does.” He could feel his small cock twitch in her grip.

“Imagine if it was my cunt wrapped around you," she whispered. His breath hitched. "Imagine rutting your little cock into something warm."

"Ah, fuck." Her hand was so tight, and his dick was already slick from the amount of times he'd leaked already.

"Do you think you could make me cum from your cock?" she mewled, gripping the base of his jaw with her free hand. She wasn't choking him, but it made him tighten up nonetheless. "Or is it too small? Am I just gonna have to use your face?"

"I could... uh..." he groaned out. It was hard to think. He couldn't keep his eyes open for too long, mainly because he hated to see his reflection. “It’s too small, I’m sorry.”

"You are good at head... Must be all the eating you do." She was stroking him faster, holding up his gut with her other hand. He was so sensitive there. "And you're so stupid... So brainless... You'd be happy to suck my clit all day. It's not like you work or anything."

"I wanna suck on your clit," he admitted pathetically, his voice barely over a dull whimper.

"Shh... I wanna feel you cum in my hand first." She was stroking faster, and his breaths were growing more rapid. "Then you can suck off Mommy, when you're nice and empty."

“I wanna suck you off…”

“Hear how pathetic and embarrassing you sound,” she breathed out. “It’s making Mommy so wet.”

He still couldn't get over how much that word turned him on. He could look introspectively into his own personal mommy issues, but that would definitely fuck up his vibe. He'd much rather feel his cock melt in her hand as he shot ropes into the sink, moaning out so loud that Cassie had to wrap her hand around his mouth.

"Shh… Good boy... Cum for Mommy," she cooed, her engorged chest right up against his back. He could feel every inch of himself shaking as he finished leaking, his breath rapid and his heart beating out of his chest. “Mm… You made such a mess.”

“Fuck… Cole’s gonna give me so much shit for this la—“ He was cut off by Cassie kissing him from the side, taking his lips against her own. It surprised Logan, but he slowly melted into her embrace, taking the sweetness of her lip gloss. It was long, and breathy, and a bit awkward because of their height difference, but he was glad she milked him dry before. It felt so deep, he probably would’ve cum again.

“I wanna do that again sometime,” she whispered, staring up at him with big brown eyes.

"I really wanna make that happen." He was panting. He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I… I wanna make you cum. I wanna do something for you.”

“How about you come home with me tonight? Make it up to me?” she cooed. Then she turned to the door. “Come on—Our food’s getting cold.”

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