He was definitely a giver.
Maybe he should get that written on his tombstone.
The Fox.
Known as a giver (sometimes a taker).
He’d give you what you needed.
A spanking.
Death to all your enemies.
A sparkly pink motorbike.
Hmm,something to think about.
“Get up,” the Fox ordered. “Take off your pants and boxers, then bend over the desk.”
“Um, well, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?” Brody protested.
The Fox stood and folded his arms over his chest, staring down at Brody, who was still kneeling. “Who is in charge right now?”
“You are, Sir.”
“That’s right. So you should be doing as I say, shouldn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Brody got up and undid his jeans, pulling them and his boxers down his legs and stepping out of them. He gave the Foxa nervous look before he leaned over the desk, putting his ass on perfect display.
Fuck. His ass was a thing of beauty. The Fox took a moment to take it in before he ran his hand down over one firm globe. He could stare at his boy’s ass for hours. Unfortunately they couldn’t spare that sort of time. They had to get to the barbecue in a couple of hours and he still hadn’t put his face on.
“Right,” the Fox said. “This is going to be quick and to the point.”
Brody cleared his throat nervously. “I still don’t think that I deserve a spanking.”
“You weren’t doing as you were told. And you rolled your eyes at me. Twice. That tells me that you need this.”
“I don’t,” Brody said quickly. “I really don’t.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps I’ve been neglecting you lately.”
“You never neglect us,” Brody replied.
“Ahh, that’s so kind,” the Fox told him. “But you’re still getting spanked.”
He ran his finger down between Brody’s ass cheeks before leaning over to open a drawer to pull out some lube and wipes.
Always be prepared.
That was one of his mottos.
Never trust anyone.
Well, he probably had to scratch that one, since he now trusted three people.
Don’t touch an innocent.
