Another swallow. “Good, excited, and a little bit nervous, Sir.”
“Do you remember your safewords?”
“Yes, Sir. ‘Yellow’ to slow down and talk and ‘Red’ to end it all.”
They had discussed limits—no sex and mild BDSM—and decided to use the club safewords.
“Take off your shirt,” Scott ordered.
Chris obeyed quickly, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
Scott walked around him again.
“So, today, I’m going to use my hand and a flogger for impact play only. I may tie you. Underwear stays on. No touching genitals and no penetration.” Scott reiterated the boundaries they had negotiated earlier. “I’ll ask you about consent and comfort level throughout. I want you to use a one-to-ten scale. One indicates you’re comfortable. When you reach six or seven, I expect you to use ‘Yellow’ and ten would mean ‘Red.’”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Take off your jeans, socks, and shoes.” Chris did as ordered and handed his clothing to Scott, who put it on a chair in the corner of the room.
Dressed only in black boxer-briefs, he waited in the same spot for Scott to return.
Scott stood in front of Chris and looked him over with obvious enjoyment. A pleasant warmth spread through Chris’s body at Scott’s open appreciation. Anticipation had replaced his earlier wariness. He wasn’t aroused, but he wasn’t nervous anymore, either.
“Where are we on the scale?”
Chris didn’t hesitate. “One, Sir.”
“Let’s move on.” Scott placed his hand on his hips and widened his stance. “Turn around and present your ass to me.”
Chris turned, and Scott pushed him forward to the medical table.
“Grab the edge, and don’t let go.”
Chris bent at the waist and grabbed the table.
“Legs wider.”
Chris obeyed.
“Number?”
“Two, Sir.”
“Arch your back and push out your ass.” Scott gave his buttocks a few quick swats. It was disconcerting to submit to him, and if Chris was honest with himself, he didn’t like it. The one time with Kate, he had enjoyed giving himself to her and he had been hard as day-old concrete. Tonight, his dick lay flaccid with no signs of stirring, and he didn’t get any pleasure from obeying Scott’s orders.
“Yellow.” The word fell from his lips before he consciously decided to safeword, and Scott squatted beside him.
“I’m not feeling it,” Chris admitted even before Scott could inquire.
“Okay,” Scott conceded. “Do you want to change something and keep going or end things and discuss?”
Chris pushed himself away from the table. “I think I’d like to stop.”
“It’s your scene. Put on your clothes while I clean the equipment.”
Less than five minutes later, they were downstairs holding fresh beers.
“Do you want to stay at the bar, or shall we move to the barrels?” Scott indicated the old barrels, converted into high tables, and surrounded with barstools.
