Master Asks Wide-Eyed Boy Noah If He Is Enjoying Getting Thoroughly Fucked

Master stilled his hips with his entire length buried inside the boy, drawing a desperate whine from Noah. The boy’s hole clenched rhythmically around the thick shaft, trying to coax more movement from the suddenly stationary cock. Master looked down at his boy — spread open beneath him, wrists pinned above his head, those famously wide eyes glistening with tears of overstimulation. Tell me, Master commanded, his voice low and controlled. Are you enjoying getting fucked? Noah’s mouth worked soundlessly, his brain scrambled from twenty minutes of relentless pounding that had just abruptly stopped. The absence of movement was somehow worse than the fucking — he could feel every inch, every vein, every pulse of the thick shaft parked inside his guts. Please, Noah whimpered, but Master needed words. Answer the question, he demanded, flexing his cock inside the boy to punctuate his point. Noah’s back arched at the internal throb. Yes Sir, he finally managed, his voice wrecked and raw. Yes what? Master pressed, slowly withdrawing an inch before pushing back. I enjoy getting fucked Sir, Noah stammered, face burning with the humiliation of the admission. Master rewarded the honesty with a single devastating thrust that nailed the boy’s prostate and made him scream. Every time I ask, you answer, Master instructed, then resumed his brutal pace, pausing periodically to ask again and watching those wide innocent eyes confirm his ownership every single time.