Laila’s Training, Chapter Three: Caiman’s Teacher [Oral] [MF] [Mm] [D/s]

“Caiman? Helloooo? You okay?”

Caiman was pulled from his thoughts by Dharia’s concerned tone. His mind had drifted back to everything that had happened a few hours before. Thoughts of Laila tied to her bed, helpless against his desires. What exactly those desires were and how to carry them out, however, remained to be seen.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” He mumbled.

The concern traveled from Dharia’s voice to her eyes, and Caiman got the feeling that wouldn’t be enough to shake her off. Warm brown eyes, serene and comforting like their mother’s, looked him up and down a few times.

“Uh huh. C’mon, man, you can tell me. Or I’ll just bug you until you do.”

He sighed. Telling her wasn’t so tough in theory. Of all his siblings, he’d always been the most comfortable around Dharia. But this was a new step for him in every way, not just talking about it. If Laila had been sitting there with them, it might’ve been a little easier.

*Meaning she could’ve done all the talking,* He scolded himself.

Dharia still stared at him from across the kitchen table, folding the puffy arms of her sweater over her chest. She would wait for an answer even if it took him hours to come up with one. They’d sit here, in silence, just like they were back in high school working on homework.

“Okay,” He said, taking a deep breath. “So, I’m in a. . . Relationship? It’s complicated. But I’m with this girl-”

“Is it Laila?”

The speed at which she’d guessed, and correctly, was uncanny. Caiman was so blindsided, he floundered for an answer just long enough for Dharia to put the pieces together herself.

“Ah. Gotcha. So, what’s going on? Nervous?”

He nodded, slowly, in reply.

“She’s. . . Into some stuff I don’t really know too much about. And I don’t want to let her down.”

Dharia leaned back in her chair, brushing two curls from her face so gold that Caiman might’ve forgotten it wasn’t her natural hair.

“Okay. So, she’s into what? Like is it music, or a show, or. . .” She trailed off, giving him room to answer.

“It’s um. . . It’s BDSM,” Caiman mumbled. She’d already deduced it was Laila. He didn’t want to air his best friend’s sexual interests out so loudly.

“What?”

He motioned for Dharia to lean in, and was glad when she understood the gesture. Not that anyone else was downstairs to hear him say it, other than maybe Dharia’s cat, but better safe than embarrassed.

“BDSM,” He whispered.

Dharia nodded, her expression changing from one of curiosity to contemplation. As they both returned to their seats, she had another sip of hot chocolate from her mug.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her, y’know? I mean, I have NO clue what I’m doing at all. She’s put a lot of trust in me, and I just don’t want to-”

“Caiman,” His sister cut him off. “You’re doing it again. That rambling thing you used to do right before panicking.”

Caiman took another deep breath, then a sip of his own hot chocolate. She was right. He felt the panic coming on, and had almost willingly walked back into freaking out just like earlier.

“Look,” Dharia said. “I get it. She’s special, you wanna show her a good time, but you’re clueless. As usual.”

“Hey!”

“But you can’t just freak out like that, man. Especially not when there’s an easy answer.”

Caiman got the feeling she was about to suggest just looking it up, an answer he’d already considered. The problem being, a conservative upbringing had left him not well versed in this kind of thing. And porn would only go to help so far.

But instead of that, Dharia pulled her phone from her pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve got a friend who’s into this sort of thing,” She explained. “Works as a life coach in town. She could teach you about it.”

Caiman’s phone whistled in his sweatpants pocket. A text notification.

“That was me,” Dharia said as he reached for it. “I gave her your number, and text you hers. If anyone’s gonna help you out, it’s her.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. A teacher was probably the best solution he could get.

“Am I gonna have to pay for it?” He asked.

Dharia shook her head.

“Nope. I’ve got it. Besides, she owes me a solid, anyway.”

“Well thanks, Dharia,” He said, smiling at his older sister. “I, uh. . . I really needed the help.”

“Hey, no problem, Cay. Can always count on your big sis.”

***

He’d gotten a text from this friend of Dharia’s almost immediately. After explaining a bit about his situation, and telling her who to look for, she’d agreed to meet him the next day at her place for a trial lesson. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he tried.

The next morning, Caiman woke up before his alarm sounded. It was 8:30am now, and his meeting with Dharia’s friend was at 10am across town. The only shame of it was, that meant missing an off day with Laila.

He at least wanted to let her know she’d be out for a little while, though, and soon was on his way down the hall. A couple knocks at the door, and Laila was standing on the other side.

“Caiman, hey,” She said, rubbing the sleep crust from one eye. “What’s up?”

“I’m gonna be out for a little bit today, but I was wondering. Did you, um, maybe want to do something when I get back?”

Laila didn’t look so tired now. Her cheeks burned red, and she looked down the hallway to confirm they were alone.

“You mean hang out, or. . . You know, the new thing?” She asked.

“I was thinking the new thing,” Caiman said. “Better to get started as quick as we can, you know?”

Laila nodded in agreement, though probably more hastily than she’d meant to.

“Okay! Okay, um, then I’ll see you later?”

“Later.”

He thought better of telling Laila just where he was going. If the point was to not let her down, saying he was off to get lessons from a more experienced dom would have defeated the purpose.

Caiman practically sprinted down the stairs and out the front door, hopping in his car with his jacket only halfway on. He was still running early, by almost an hour, but the drive’s estimated time was about twenty minutes. This friend of Dharia’s lived closer to the coast, near that massive, expensive looking resort. Where the houses looked exactly like what he imagined people who could afford living next to a resort would have.

The whole drive, he couldn’t help wondering just what this lesson would be like. He’d never met this friend of Dharia’s. Hopefully this wouldn’t be a bad first impression.

*Yeah. Right. First impressions, a totally normal thing to worry about when on the way to a BDSM dom class,* he thought, chuckling to himself. Even he had to sometimes acknowledge just how stupid his worries were.

Thankfully, traffic was easy going this early in the morning. Most people who lived in Terry Creek walked to work if they lived in town, even in the cold of mid-December. Caiman was outside the given address in just under fifteen minutes.

It was a really elegant looking place. Two stories, but just as wide as their house, “the parsonage” as his dad often called it. Roman columns on the porch were decorated with strings of christmas lights, forming a red and green pattern across the front. Even with the decorations, though, this was a level of extravagance Caiman found himself thrown off by. How many rich people lived in Terry Creek? And she made this from being a life coach?

His jacket now on completely, Caiman walked nervously for the front door. He was running earlier than he’d hoped, more than an hour now. For a second, he considered walking around a bit to wake himself up. Leaving in such a rush meant no time for coffee, and he was a little groggy this morning in spite of his anxiety.

“Excuse me?”

The call came from his destination. Caiman had been looking up and down the street, and hadn’t noticed the maid step out onto the front porch. He couldn’t determine their gender from here, but that short skirt in this cold weather couldn’t have been comfortable. At least it had long sleeves, and the torso of the costume looked puffy enough it might have been insulated.

“Would you like to come in? The mistress is just waking up now. You are Caiman Roswell, yes?”

“Uh huh,” Caiman replied.

“Please, come inside. She’ll be ready shortly.”

Caiman walked up the steps and towards the front door. Now closer, he had a better look at the maid. Solid white hair, like the snow, all the way down to their roots. Poking up amongst it were two small antlers, which blended in so well Caiman had to stare a little longer just to make sure they were real. Another Bestparia. There seemed to be so many in town these days.

If they noticed his staring, they didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, the maid gestured them inside. The entryway matched the house exterior for decoration. It reminded Caiman of all those houses his parents went to for fancy parties. Chandelier dangling by a golden chain, eggshell colored walls, and a few impressionist paintings in frames worth more than he made in a month. It moved beyond wealth into the realm of excess, the exact kind he always thought only belonged to uber rich movie villains.

“This way, please. Oh, I’ll take your jacket, sir.”

Barely a second passed between Caiman climbing out of the jacket and having it gently tugged from his shoulders. He’d barely gotten out a ‘thank you’ before it was hanging in a nearby closet.

“It’s no trouble, sir. Mistress expects me to take good care of her guests when they have to wait. This way, please.”

Caiman followed after, trying to figure out what could be made of this maid. They were dedicated, that much was clear. The soprano of their voice was almost feminine, but there was an occasional lower quality to the tone that made him wonder otherwise. Not that it was any of his business, after all.

The two stopped in what was a surprisingly normal looking living room. Caiman felt more at home with the well-worn furniture that looked lifted from a college dorm. A stark contrast to the kitchen on its immediate right.

The maid gestured to the seating area of the living room, a recliner chair and two old, grey couches forming a V with how they’d been pushed together.

“Please,” they said. “Have a seat. She’ll be down soon.”

Caiman nodded, moving past the maid to find a seat on the nearest couch. He didn’t get too comfortable just yet. This was a stranger’s home, and he’d been taught never to sit with his back against the cushion.

Waiting did give Caiman a little more time to admire the scenery. His hostess’ living room was almost identical to his own, down to the well-loved couches. Wooden floors, with a patterned rug covering most of its surface. The TV hung from the wall directly opposite his chosen couch, a few game’s consoles and a DVR box sitting on the mantle of the fireplace directly below.

From a nearby sliding door, he could see a large pool. With how cold it was outside, it had been covered in a large tarp, but it took up a greater deal of what he assumed to be his hostess’ backyard. Several lounging chairs surrounded the poolside, enough for a small party of people to relax comfortably outside on a hot day. He wondered what it might’ve been like to take Laila to such a pool. They hadn’t gone swimming together in ages. He could imagine her now, wearing a sheer swimsuit to fit their arrangement, grinding against him in one of those beach chairs as they’d done on the floor. Feeling her shapely ass glide against his manhood, fabric the only thing separating their bodies. If only it was warmer, he might’ve suggested it.

His looking around and fantasizing was thrown off somewhat by movement out of the corner of his eye. The maid had come to stand directly in front of him. Jumpy as he’d been lately, Caiman was glad to find some restraint.

“While she gets ready, Mistress has asked that I see to some of your needs,” They explained.

Needs? Caiman shook his head.

“I don’t need anything. But I appreciate you checking on me.”

“Sir,” The maid said. “I can see that you DO need something.”

Caiman followed their eyes as they moved down his body, towards the tent that had formed during his thoughts. While their eyes didn’t carry the same hunger as Laila’s, he knew what they’d meant now.

“Oh! Are you sure? I mean, it’ll go away in a little bit, I’m sure.”

“I would be glad to, sir.”

The maid was on their knees before Caiman could make another objection. Feign objection, more like. Thoughts of Laila had gotten him riled up, and the need for release was too strong to truly decline. Caiman unzipped his pants, and pulled the waistline of his underwear down so that his member stood to attention in plain view. The maid looked ready to drool.

“I’ll begin immediately, sir~”

He moved closer, pressing their upper body between Caiman’s legs. A small hand cupped the side of his shaft, as the maid’s tongue began to travel from the base to its tip.

Caiman wished he’d thought to bathe again before coming. Showering the night before meant he wasn’t smelly most places on his body, save for one. Yet, if anything, that seemed to make the maid more eager. Their whole face pressed to his cock, and he felt a small, sharp breeze as they inhaled. With everything else they’d chosen to do, he wouldn’t complain.

The maid said nothing as they worked, which was probably for the best. Caiman wasn’t yet sure how to respond to that kind of thing, especially not when the maid’s soft hand began stroking along his length.

“Do you want it in my mouth, sir?” They asked.

“S-Sure.”

Heart shaped lips opened wide, permitting Caiman’s tip into the maid’s mouth. They let out a small noise, the hum sending vibrations through his entire length.

Caiman had very little time to adjust before the maid slammed their head downward. In a single move, he could now feel his cock tickle the back of their throat. He gripped tight to couch cushions, as the maid’s head bobbed rhythmically along his shaft. Up and down, at a moderate speed. Their hands pressed to his jeans for some kind of hold, and he could feel their tongue roll around his tip each time they came up. Never once did their mouth pull away from his length. Caiman felt their breath in waves of heat against his shaft, tickling his manhood the more slick with saliva it became.

It felt so good. Each bob of the maid’s head along his shaft sent shivers down Caiman’s back. His sex pulsed, grateful for the attention.

There came a point, however, where it was clear they weren’t going to stop. And even more apparent that Caiman didn’t want them to. His hands left the couch and grabbed for the maid’s head, guiding the back and forth they’d been doing fine unaided. So close to climax, Caiman couldn’t wait any longer. He NEEDED it. With a desire he could only put in loud moans of his own. Suddenly the maid didn’t need to move their head at all. Holding it in place, Caiman now thrust to the back of their throat. Their grip on his jeans tightened, as his hips slapped to the maid’s face. Caiman rose from the couch, halfway between standing and sitting, as he listened to the maid begin to gag on his length.

“Fuck, it feels so good! I-I’m so sorry, but I have to-!”

A moment of euphoric bliss as he thrust forward one final time, and the maid took the whole of his load down their throat. Swallows tightened their grip on his shaft, milking every drop he had until they both finally came back to earth. Caiman slumped back onto the couch, taking his hands from where they’d gripped to tufts of white hair. The maid purred in satisfaction, laying their head against his knee. They still kept his cock in their mouth, preventing it from softening with the occasional lick.

“Th. . . That was great~”

“Ah. Mister Roswell. There you are.”

The jumpiness of the past few days returned when a woman’s deep voice echoed in the hall behind.

The maid simply sat there, still nursing at the cock in their mouth as though nothing had happened. He heard footsteps slap against the tile, growing closer and closer until his hostess’ presence could be felt right behind his head.

“Aithlin, if he’s finished, would you mind going to freshen up the office? I have that meeting at noon.”
The maid whined, looking past Caiman at the woman he knew to be standing there.

“Come on. You’ll have your reward if you finish before they get here~”

At that, their eyes lit up. The maid pulled their mouth from Caiman’s sex with a lewd ‘pop’, and ran off without cleaning the excess from his chin.

Caiman went to put his member away, only to be stopped by a guiding hand.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have Aithlin bring you a towel.”

He nodded, though Caiman found himself too nervous to look upward. The hand moved away, and his hostess rounded the couch before finally taking a seat on the other.

She didn’t look how he expected. Her wine red hair was done up in thick braids, which formed a frame for the soft features of her face. She was dark skinned, near onyx in complexion. But the curious thing was her eyes. Yellow eyes, that peered through his body into his very mind. Who knew what it was she saw, but it curved her lips into a grin.

“So you’re Dharia’s little brother, huh? You two do kinda look alike,” She remarked, bringing her legs onto the couch with the rest of her. Caiman wasn’t sure what would be appropriate attire for this kind of thing, but he hadn’t suspected sweatpants.

“What did you think of Aithlin? He treated you well, I hope. Feel good to have a slut like that sucking you off?”

Caiman’s face went red with humiliation. His eyes widened, and he struggled to find any sort of answer.

“I-I, uh, well-”

He was cut off by a thunderous cackle, as his hostess threw her head back in laughter.

“Don’t be so nervous! My God, you really will need my help.”

Caiman felt his face warm in embarrassment yet again.

“I’m only teasing. I’m Lynette, your sister’s friend and your potential teacher,” She said, though she still smiled as if silently laughing at him.

“I appreciate you helping me,” Caiman said. He kept his voice calm, though inside he was trying desperately to think of anything but his cock still being where she could see.

“I, uh, really do need the help.”

“It’s no trouble,” Lynette waved her hand dismissively. “Dharia probably told you, but I owe her a solid. This is no big deal.”

There was a clacking of heels on the wooden floor, and Aithlin gently lay a small towel on the arm of the couch.

“Thank you, honey. When you’re finished cleaning, you can come sit,” Lynette said. Still feeling slightly ashamed, Caiman couldn’t bring himself to watch Aithlin walk off as his clicking heels grew more distant. He simply grabbed the towel and did his best to wipe away any saliva or left behind cum.

“Now,” Lynette said as he cleaned. “Let’s talk about this sub problem of yours, hm?”

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ppjlmv/lailas_training_chapter_three_caimans_teacher