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“Micah!”
The man in question jumped as Dutch’s voice rang out behind him. He oughtn’t to be surprised, as he had been on the ground leaning against the barrels on which the collection box and ledger had been displayed. But, naturally, Micah would have never admitted to lurking around Dutch’s tent, despite that being the precise thing he had been doing since they set up camp at Clemens Point.
“Yes Boss?” Micah scrambled to his feet, brushing off the dirt on his jeans and adjusting his hat, blinking rapidly to scare off the sleep that had threatened to creep up on him. He felt like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be, and he hated it.
“In here.” Dutch looked stern, still fully dressed despite the late hour. Micah followed him into his tent, his insides doing a funny little leap as he found the tent to be empty aside from themselves.
“Where’s Miss O’Shea, boss?” He asked, not entirely convincing in his attempt to pretend he cared for the answer.
“Gone out.” Dutch was curt, fastening the tent entrance behind them, the space suddenly feeling incredibly cramped. Dutch was so close Micah could smell him, a waft of cigar smoke, too-strong cologne and a little sweat hitting him, making his knees weak. It ought to be off-putting, yet Micah’s stomach fluttered in a distinctly pleasant way. He chose not to respond, not quite trusting his voice not to tremble, nodding in a way that he hoped to be understanding.
“Micah, Micah…” Dutch was moving, walking over to the armchair he had for some godforsaken reason insisted on lugging along with them, taking a seat and drawing out a cigar, the strike of a match almost making Micah jump. The sweet tobacco smoke filled the tent quickly as it had nowhere to escape, making Micah’s throat itch. He’d always preferred cigarettes anyway, and not those fancy ones with the silly cards. Hand-rolled and filterless, strong enough to make your head spin. “What am I supposed to do with you?” Dutch sighed out with a new cloud of smoke.
“What…what do you mean, boss?” Micah was beginning to feel restless, trapped in such a small space, the conversation was already too much for him with Dutch’s dramatics and the fact that he couldn’t be goddamn direct. He knew Arthur and the others had been complaining to their leader, calling Micah dangerous, a loose cannon, a threat to their safety. Bullshit, he thought, yet he couldn’t help dreading that Dutch had finally taken their words seriously.
“You’re not subtle, boy.” Micah was itching for a cigarette, his face beginning to heat a little. He pulled his hat lower in a futile attempt to hide away, though he felt Dutch’s piercing eyes on him, searching. “Shouldn’t be stalking around another man’s tent like that, might give someone the wrong idea.”
Oh. So that was what Dutch was on about. Micah’s face was bright red now, the shadow cast onto his features by the brim of his hat not nearly adequate to hide any of it. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but he felt like a kid being scolded. Now, Dutch clearly didn’t mind men doing…that…given that Bill was still around and well, Dutch himself and Hosea certainly had something going on. But something about being caught himself, his sneaking around Dutch’s tent being seen for what it was rather than him looking to suck up to him at any possible moment, made him feel queasy.
“I’m sorry boss, I didn’t mean nothing by it, I-“
“It’s alright, Micah.” Dutch cut him off. Micah couldn’t help himself, looking up to where he had been staring at a scuff on the toe box of his boots to meet Dutch’s eyes. The look he found there made his stomach lurch, knees threatening to give out. Those dark eyes were looking at him with something that could only be described as hunger, like a panther watching his prey, getting ready to pounce and devour.
“Come here.” Micah began to move without noticing, sinking down onto his knees next to Dutch before he had even fully realized what he was doing. Dutch smiled down at him, those sharp canines glinting in the light, moving to take off Micah’s hat, and throwing it on the ground nearby. Micah flinched, but he wasn’t going to complain about the treatment of his things when he was kneeling at Dutch’s feet like the loyal servant he was itching to be.
“Oh Micah…” Those strong fingers began to card through his hair, catching in the tangles. “You want to serve so badly, don’t you?” His nails scratched along his scalp, drawing a soft hiss from Micah.
“I…I do, boss.” Micah would have hated to hear his own voice at that moment, shaking and pleading in a much higher pitch than usual.
“You want to serve me, am I right, Micah?”
“Yes, Dutch.” Micah felt light-headed, barely able to feel his face burn, unable to see, hear, feel anything but Dutch. Those strong fingers were moving steadily, brushing through his beard, then two were resting on his bottom lip, demanding entrance. Micah’s mouth opened in an instant, tongue darting out to flick at the digits before they could be shoved into his mouth.
“You are going to serve me tonight, son.” His fingers were pressing down hard onto his tongue, making the saliva flow to cover them rapidly. “If you wish to stop, say Blackwater. Anything else I will assume that you’re just being cute.” He shoved his fingers in further, making Micah gag as he struggled to breathe. “Understood?”
A garbled “yessir” came from Micah, alongside enthusiastic nods, gasping for air as Dutch retrieved his fingers.
“Undress.” And with that, all touch had vanished, Dutch leaning back to take a drag of his cigar, eyes remaining on Micah. The blond didn’t hesitate, stripping himself as quickly as he could, throwing his clothing somewhere in the direction of where Dutch had flung his hat. He could have sworn he heard a chuckle at the lack of underwear, which he had never seen the point of wearing, face reddening as his cock was exposed, laying hard against his thigh already. He settled at Dutch’s feet again, feeling suddenly incredibly exposed. But Dutch smiled, puffing away at his cigar as his booted foot came forward to nudge at Micah’s cock, smearing a little precum onto the black leather.
“Whoops.” Dutch said in a tone that made it very clear that this was no accident. “Clean up your mess, boy.”
Micah found himself panting as he leaned down, his tongue lolling out to lave along the soft leather, cleaning off the bitter-tasting clear stain, swallowing audibly. He decided to lick another strip over the first, making sure he had gotten everything, wanting to remain in Dutch’s favour as much as possible.
“Good boy.” Micah positively whined against the leather, the taste of it becoming addicting as he pressed a kiss to the toe of the heavy boot. He sat back to a proper kneeling position, trying not to look like this little act had winded him in desperation. He didn’t have to be told as Dutch exhaled another plume of cigar smoke, the ash having collected plentifully on the glowing end. Micah’s mouth dropped open, tongue lolling out as he saw the cigar approach, wincing only slightly as the hot ash sizzled on his tongue, the bitter taste making his mouth water. He swallowed and opened his mouth again, showing that he had been good, good for Dutch. His head felt magically empty, like when he had first taken opium, his body heavy and sensitive, brain floating peacefully.
They sat like this for a while, the ache that was sure to have formed in Micah’s knees not even registering, Micah dutifully keeping his mouth open, drool spilling down his chin as he awaited the next sizzle of ash. He was consumed by Dutch, consumed by his leader. He was only torn out of it as Dutch’s boot returned to his cock, the heavy leather sole pressing down hard on the cock he had almost forgotten about completely, but was now aching with need.
“Dutch…” He rasped out, eyes rolling in his head as the hobnailed boot rubbed against him painfully.
“Try that again, pet?”
“Daddy…” He whined as the tip of the boot nudged his balls, hard enough to be painful yet drawing out a fat bead of precum.
If Dutch was surprised by the choice of address, he didn’t show it. Instead, he put out his cigar, his fingers returning to Micah’s hair, tugging at it to force their eyes to meet.
“That’s right, boy. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” Micah was torn between wanting the earth to open and take him into its depth out of shame, and the urgent need to cum, his muscles suddenly clenching to hold back an orgasm that would have him reeling with embarrassment. The delicious pressure of the boot vanished, causing Micah to make a little noise at the back of his throat, and then he was being tugged to his feet by his hair. He stumbled a little as Dutch walked him over to the bed, throwing him down onto all fours easily, not that Micah was providing any resistance. He found his limbs shaking, dropping down onto his elbows instead, face red at the realization that he was presenting himself to Dutch.
“Good boy.” Those large, warm hands returned to his skin, running down his back before cupping his arse, making appraising noises. “I think you need to be reminded of your place, son.” One hand lifted and smacked the pale skin, reddening it in an instant as Micah whimpered. “I know you’re desperate for your Daddy, but you need to be more discreet. It makes you look foolish.” Another smack, then another. Soon, the skin of Micah’s arse matched his burning face, red and hot. Micah was whimpering into the pillow, a particularly hard slap forcing a moan out of him that rang loudly in the quiet tent.
“Quiet, son, or they’ll hear.” Micah whimpered, burying his face into the pillow again. “Mind you, they wouldn’t dare disturb us. But they’ll all know tomorrow that you’ve finally gotten your wish of serving me like that.” Micah moaned, muffled by the flat pillow, but still audible. “Oh you like that, Micah? Do you want the camp to know that I own you?” His voice had gotten lower and lower, the deep gravel of these words making Micah shudder as another onslaught of smacks began. He felt the skin become tender, sure that it was going to bruise, the thought forcing a moan from him. Dutch did not cease until his own hands were aching and red, the skin of Micah’s arse and thighs positively glowing in the dim light of the tent.
“Good boy…” He murmured, smoothing his hands over the heated skin, pinching occasionally as he took in his handiwork. His grasp firmed as he pushed apart Micah’s cheeks, exposing his twitching hole. He gasped as he heard Dutch gather spit in his mouth, spitting a fat glob noisily onto his hole. “Who does this hole belong to?” Dutch’s voice was low as he pushed his thumb into his hole, pushing his own spit inside easily.
“You…” Another firm slap connected with his already bruising skin. “You, Daddy.” He corrected himself with a whine, hips canting to push back onto Dutch’s single digit.
“Been playing with yourself, boy? Or has someone else been ruining your hole?” He pulled out his thumb, replacing it with three of his thick fingers. They slid in a lot easier than he expected, the burn making Micah’s cock twitch nevertheless.
“Only you, Dutch…” Micah’s voice was muffled, but it was very clear he was embarrassed, not stopping his cock from steadily leaking a thin stream of precum onto the bedsheets.
“You been fucking yourself thinking of me, son?” He twisted his fingers in a way that smarted perfectly, curling them to find that spot that would make Micah scream. He did so quickly, finding the spongy area and pressing down hard. Micah’s whole body shook, clenching around Dutch’s fingers hard as he tried to hold back.
“Dutch…fuck, gonna cum, please, daddy…” He choked out, so tight around Dutch he could barely move, keeping him in place only able to rub against his prostate.
“Then cum for me, son. Come on, show me how much you’re enjoying being my little fucktoy.” He could barely finish the sentence as Micah clenched even tighter, becoming painful around Dutch’s fingers, legs shaking hard as he began to spill all over the already messy sheets. Those damn fingers kept moving throughout his orgasm, pressing firmly against his prostate until he had gotten the last, feeble spurt of cum out of him, leaving Micah whimpering and trembling.
“Daddy…” He was breathing hard, legs threatening to collapse under him, his vision blurry if he had only had the strength to open his eyes.
“Good boy.” Dutch murmured before continuing the onslaught against his prostate.
“No, please, Dutch, no” Micah was blabbering, legs giving out under him, not even noticing as he dropped into the mess he had made. “Daddy, too much, no, please!” He was feeling his cock twitching back to life reluctantly where it was squished against the bed, the wetness of his own cum on the sheets strangely erotic rather than offputting.
“Nuh uh, boy, you’re done when Daddy says you’re done.” Micah cried out when those fingers were pulled out of him, leaving his hole empty and slightly open, trying hard to close fully. “God, look at that already ruined pussy of yours.” Micah’s eyes were rolling in his head, his breath catching harshly in his chest. “You like that, son?” He couldn’t speak, a whimper of agreement the best he could do as his cock filled out painfully quickly, still so sensitive from his orgasm.
“This pussy is mine, and mine alone, understood?” He positively growled. “Y…yes daddy.” Micah would have considered that he had died and gone to heaven if he wasn’t so sure that if heaven and hell existed, he certainly wasn’t going anywhere good. He heard a satisfied grunt from Dutch, and jerked as suddenly a hot wetness was covering his loosened hole, the telltale tickle of Dutch’s moustache rubbing against the sensitive skin.
“Oh god, fuck, that’s filthy, fuck, Daddy…” He was rambling, swearing into the pillow that had become soaked with his own spit, face suddenly warm as tears began to spill from his tightly closed eyes. Dutch held him in place firmly, thumbs keeping his cheeks spread and hole exposed as his tongue licked around him, pushing into him as far as he could, sucking and slurping most obscenely. “Your pussy tastes so good, boy.” He grunted against the heated skin of Micah’s arse before continuing, the skin where his moustache rubbed becoming tender rapidly. Micah was crying now, sobs wrecking through him as the obscene noises rang through the tent, making it clear what they were doing to anyone who would walk past. They would all know that Micah was letting himself be used like that, and somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Arthur already thought he was crawling up Dutch’s ass…well, how ironic. Micah’s mind didn’t get the chance to wander for very long as a sharp pinch against the bruised skin of his ass brought him back with a pang of pain, hips canting up to thrust back against Dutch’s face. “God, look at your pussy…” Dutch pulled back, examining his handiwork, keeping his cheeks spread in a way that would’ve made Micah blush even more, if he had been able to. “Wish you could see how it’s struggling to close, already all fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you.” Another glob of spit hit the skin, this time easily sliding into the loose hole without any help from Dutch’s fingers. “Should put my whole fist in your pussy next time, ruin you like a proper whore…”
Suddenly, Micah was ripped from the comforting darkness of the dampened pillow as he was flipped onto his back, Dutch’s strong arms moving him easily despite his own size.
“Look at you…” He was grinning, running his fingers over the mess on Micah’s groin and the swell of his stomach, rubbing it in. The last bit was scooped onto his fingers and offered to Micah like a treat, who sucked them into his mouth in an instant, moaning as he lapped his own spend off Dutch’s fingers.
“Hmmm…you think you deserve Daddy’s cock yet?” He could hear the smile in his voice, Micah’s watery eyes opening slightly to look at him. He was still fully dressed, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair and moustache still only lightly mussed. He looked as if he could walk out of the tent and give a grandiose speech at any moment, not at all like he was just fucking another man’s arse with his tongue.
“Please, Dutch…” Hot tears spilt down Micah’s cheeks as Dutch’s fingers retreated from his lips, trailing down over his chest and belly to find the tip of his cock, pinching it sharply. “Fuck…please fuck me Daddy, please…” He was sobbing, hips twitching as he was being pulled back and forth between pain and pleasure. Dutch laughed. It was humiliating beyond belief, but the words seemed to have fulfilled their purpose. The bed dipped as Dutch positioned himself on the bed, unbuttoning his trousers to pull out his cock. Micah, blinking away tears, was suddenly grateful for the excessive preparation and teasing he had been put through. Dutch was big, not that he hadn’t suspected that anyways, the man walked like he had a big cock.
“Fuck…you’re gonna ruin me Dutch…” He grumbled, the spinning of his head slowing as he found himself confronted with what was about to be inside him.
“I trust your pussy can take it no problem, Micah.” Any semblance of sense that had returned to Micah was banished in an instant as Dutch hoisted his legs up in the air, bending him in half as his knees rested near his ears. He was held in place by those strong arms almost easily, the tip of Dutch’s cock resting against his slightly gaping hole. “Please…” He whined, hips bucking slightly in the restrictive position.
“Beg for it, boy.” Dutch grinned, pushing the tip in just slightly, just enough for Micah to feel the stretch.
“Please, Dutch…Daddy.” Micah had begun to cry again. Maybe it was because he hadn’t cried in years, but now that he had started, he couldn’t stop. “Fuck me, give me that huge cock.” His voice was trembling. “I need to feel you in my pussy, I need you to breed me Daddy.” He hiccupped pathetically. But he had said the right thing. Dutch thrust forward, pushing in until his groin rested against the heated skin of Micah’s arse. The stretch was enough to just hurt, and Micah felt impossibly full, he swore he could feel the tip of Dutch’s cock in his damn stomach.
“Shit, your pussy’s still fucking tight…” Dutch grunted, and then he began to move. He was driving into him mercilessly, not giving him much chance to adjust, balls slapping against him in the otherwise silent tent. He shifted a little and Micah saw white, his hole clenching so firmly he almost wasn’t able to thrust into him, cock spurting white over his taut, round belly. His back was arched as he continued to dribble on himself, tears spilling from his eyes.
“There you go boy…” Dutch murmured, bracing himself before continuing to thrust into him mercilessly, pounding into him as a last, little spurt of cum spilled from Micah. That second orgasm had positively broken him. He was sobbing, babbles of “thank you Daddy” and “fuck me” and “please Daddy” spilling from his lips uncontrollably. His cock was twitching but remained soft, too spent to get hard again though a strange sort of pleasure was spreading through his body. He couldn’t tell how long Dutch was fucking him for, the man’s stamina so much better than his own it made him feel like a teenager.
Then, he felt Dutch’s cock pulsating inside of him, urging on a new wave of pleas and begging. “Gonna fill up your pussy, Micah. Gonna fill you up and breed you, make sure it takes. Gonna breed you until you’re pregnant and have to waddle around camp, full with my babies, everyone’s gonna know that you’re my little breeding bitch…” Dutch’s voice had changed, hoarse and desperate as his hips jerked, his grip on Micah’s legs tightening to the point that it would surely bruise.
“Please…” Micah moaned weakly, feeling winded and thoroughly used. “Gimme your cum, Dutch…Daddy…” He was mumbling barely loud enough to be heard, but it did the trick. Dutch stilled with a litany of swears, his hot cum beginning to flood Micah’s ass. Suddenly, Micah clamped down again on him, shuddering as he came, though his cock was still soft and nothing spilt from it. He was coming dry, having been completely drained by Dutch, his cock twitching feebly as he whined and whimpered, yowls of Dutch’s name ripping from him as he felt himself being filled.
Dutch let him relax for a moment before he pulled out with a groan, still keeping Micah in the same position to examine what he had done. His hole was truly gaping now, twitching in a pathetic attempt to close as he felt Dutch stare, some of Dutch’s cum visible as it slowly began to spill.
“Fuck, Micah…your pussy’s ruined…” Dutch sounded out of breath, eyes firmly on Micah, who had finally stopped crying, though he was still floating far far away.
“Guess I’ll have to keep you, seeing as I ruined you for anyone else.”