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“Good. Go on.”
“There’s what looks like a student’s desk and a blackboard over there.” I nodded toward the other side of the room. “And maybe a teacher’s desk?”
“Yes. For teacher-student roleplay. Does that interest you at all?”
I swallowed. “Um…yeah.”
“Perfect. Keep going. There’s lots of stuff here. Good thing it’s a large space.”
“I don’t know what that thing is. It’s made of wood. It’s triangle-shaped…”
“It’s a Berkeley Horse.”
“Oh,” I said. “It doesn’t look like a horse. Sir.”
“It’s not that kind of a horse.”
“Oh. Beg pardon, Sir. I barely know what I’m doing or saying.”
My breathing rate had increased as my brain had absorbed my surroundings and Alastair had explained them.
“Well, it’s a good thing I know exactly what I am doing and saying,” Alastair said, stepping close to me from behind. “Isn’t it?”
“Y-yes. Yes, Sir,” I breathed, feeling the energy of his closeness and also something suspiciously hard poking me from behind.
“Put your hands on your head.”
I did as he’d asked and waited.
Alastair’s hands appeared from behind me, and he undid the button on my fly then unzipped it with his competent fingers as I tried to breathe properly.
He reached into my jeans and cupped the lace that stretched over my swelling cock. “So pretty.”
I moaned and shifted into his touch.
“Easy, there. Hmm, already so hard.”
I moaned, going nuts with having to keep my hands on my head and Alastair fondling my bits through the panties.
He took his hand away and backed up. “Settle down, boy. We’re just getting started.”
I whimpered, and Alastair laughed.
“Turn around, and stay still. Keep your hands up.”
I obeyed, watching as he went over to the clothes rack. He sorted through the items on the hangars, taking things off and folding them over his arm—white cotton and lace, red and black satin, robes in all kinds of fabrics. We were going to play dress-up.
There was a wooden chest by the settee. Alastair opened one drawer after another, pulling items out and placing them on the velvet couch.
There was a pair of black stockings, a black leather corset with buckles and straps, white lace panties—designed for men like the ones I bought myself, with an ample pouch in the front—a pair of off-white bloomers that looked shorter and more delicate than the ones I was used to, and a royal blue silk kimono like the black one Robin owned, but embellished with butterflies instead of dragons.
“Strip.”
I blinked, wondering if I was allowed to say anything or if he still wanted me to be quiet. I lifted my hand tentatively.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Are you going to dress me up, Sir?” My voice sounded rough and soft at the same time.
