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“You want me to rip off my own work?”
Tye frowns. “I didn’t say I—” He rethinks it. “Oh, I guess it does kinda sound like that. I didn’t mean we have to do the exact same thing. Of course that’d be an insult to … an artist like you.”
An artist like me.
He moves further into the studio, then faces the sling importantly. “Can we … do a few shots on this, maybe?”
I smirk. “Be my guest.”
He puts a reluctant hand on it, the sound of his fingers running along the smooth, strong leather sending chills down my arms.
Normally this is when I’d rush to assist him, my professional switch flicking on. But the energy between us is clearly anything but professional now.
I can hear the playful licking of my cat o’ nine tails against his soft, smooth skin. I can hear the sweet, muffled whimpers of his mouth behind a ball gag. I can see the yearning desire in his eyes.
Stop. He’s your client still, remember? “You need some help getting into that thing?”
“I, uh …” He glances nervously at me. He has no idea the way his eyes strip me to nothing. “I …”
“Yeah, boy?”
Oh, shit.
I may or may not have meant to call him that. But it came out. And there’s nothing I can do now.
Tye noticed, too. He clears his throat, then just as quickly lets out a light chuckle. “Oh. I get it.” He points at me. “You’re getting me into character, right? Calling me ‘boy’ like that? As if I’m your …” His throat tightens up. “… y-your submissive, or something. Right?”
Yeah, alright, I can roll with that. “Sure.”
“Oh, is what I’m wearing fine?” He gestures at himself. “For being in a sling? The pants feel kinda stretchy, like I could spread my legs far apart.”
Spread his legs.
Far.
Apart.
I have to ask, is he choosing those words on purpose?
“Yep,” I answer him evenly, despite my heart racing. “What you’re wearing will do.”
He turns back to the sling, then bites his lip as he studies it for a second.
I smirk. “Let me help you get into that.”
“I got it,” he insists. Then with a quick breath, he attempts to work himself onto the seat of it.
His feet slip out from under him at once.
I rush up to catch him from eating the floor.
My sudden movement succeeds not only in perfectly slamming the boy’s back right on the seat of the sling where he was trying to put himself, but I also end up directly over him, between his now-suddenly-spread-and-off-the-ground legs, my face a foot from his, and my hands gripping the sling and holding it in place.
Tye stares up at me from his accidentally perfect seat on the sling, shocked, lips parted, eyes sparkling with surprise.
I stare down at him, frozen in place.
“This … sling …” I start to say, my voice deep and gravelly, “can be … tricky to get into.”
“Seems easy enough,” he croaks in reply.
I carefully let go and back away from him. He squirms a bit to adjust himself properly on the seat, then glances around, inspecting the straps. He very clearly has no idea what goes where.
It’s so damned sexy, to have his toned, slender body suspended in that sling like a victim caught in my web. It’s adorable, how innocent he is, despite how bold and fearless he pretends to be. That tiny leather tank top is just begging to be torn off his tight body any second. Those leather pants are so tight, I can literally see the outline of his dick.
“Your feet go into the—”
“I got it,” he cuts me off, then carefully lifts each of his feet, hooking them in the leg-spreading harnesses that hold his ankles. His military boots turn me on in ten different ways, spread like that.
My heart races at the sight of him on that sling.
I’ve got no fucking idea how I’m supposed to keep things professional between us. And now he’s gone and spread his legs in front of me.
He tries to move his leg, but is reminded his ankle is caught in one of the foot straps. “Do the straps, uh … tighten …?”
I lean against the nearby wall and figuratively bite a fist, watching him. Most models, they have been through the process before. They know what is expected of them. Even in the vanity shoots with actors and dancers and fetish enthusiasts who want a hot gallery to show off to whomever they’re trying to impress, they at least have the first idea of what they want. They have their practiced poses, know their ‘good sides’, and understand angles.
Tye has learned a lot over this past week or so.
But he’s still got so much to learn—especially now that he’s in my territory. I’m going to have to take charge here, whether Tye’s trying to be the big man or not.
