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“Now, now, there’s plenty of time for more. I just can’t wait another minute to see you all trussed up. Put your back against that pillar.”
Without a thought, he goes straight to where I indicated, his back glued to the rough wood with no fear, or perhaps the hope, of splinters. Either way, when it’s all said and done, I’ll happily remove each one. After all, he’s mine to take care of.
I don’t have to ask him to flatten his arms against his sides. It’s automatic as I begin to wind the whip around his upper body until he’s unable to move away from the pillar, his arms glued to his sides from the elbow up leaving forearms and hands a little wiggle room. Enough to touch if he dares.
Once he’s good and trapped, I wander over to the same wall and take up a riding crop, watching his eyes dilate. “Mmm, I see you like your crops. What do you like the most?”
His voice is breathy. “I like the short, sharp stings that can litter my entire body.”
I lean in until our mouths are just out of reach. “What about the marks?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Yes sir, they leave the best bruises that last for days.”
“You want those bruises from me?”
Another nod. “I do, more than anything, sir.”
“And why is that?”
He swallows thickly but doesn’t answer, so I flick the crop hard against his nipple barely exposed between the winding leather of the whip.
“Answer me, slave!”
He cries out, “I want to remember everything you do to me, sir!”
I lean back in, allowing my lips to feather over his. “Mmm, good boy.”
He groans harshly as I pull back, so I swat the other nipple harder.
“Quiet! Tonight, you’re not allowed to voice your opinion on any matter. If you’re good, you’ll earn a reward.”
His eyes roll to the back of his head, and his mouth opens on a silent moan.
“Very good.”
Then, I proceed to put him through his paces. Quick, hard flicks leave a beautiful mess of red splotches behind. When his arms and chest are covered, I reach for his belt buckle.
He opens his mouth, so I remind him. “Nu uh uh, remember, no noise, which includes talking if you want your reward.”
His mouth snaps shut, and he watches as I remove his belt using it to tie his hands behind his back before I return to undo his fly. As I lower his zipper, I barely contain my gasp as I take in hot pink lace.
I shoot my gaze to him and grin wickedly. “My, my, Caleb Danbury, you certainly are full of surprises. I might have to forget about punishing your lower half and get straight to your reward.”
Yet, as I lower his jeans and take in his straining cock that the tiny thong barely contains, I know I need the time to find my control so as not to embarrass myself.
I don’t bother removing his boots, just leave his jeans around his calves, which are an effective restraint in and of itself.
“Look at you, my beautiful boy. I could eat you right up! But first, let’s decorate your legs to match your upper half, shall we?”
Even though the question is rhetorical, he nods excitedly anyway, and I happily flick the crop up and down his leanly muscled thighs, watching as his dick grows until the head pops over the waistband of his pretty lace panties.
I run my fingers over the waistband just coming short of his leaking crown.
“You’re free to talk now. You’ve more than earned your reward. So tell me, cowboy. How often do you wear lingerie?”
“Everyday,” he husks.
Goddam, he just keeps getting better and better.
