He moves closer on his bare feet until we are eye to eye. It is odd to be so much taller; we are practically the same height now.
I put down the crop and rest both of my hands in their fingerless latex gloves on his hips. I curl my forefingers inside the elastic of his boxers and then let go so it snaps back lightly against his skin.
‘Why do you wear these, boy?’
‘What, pants?’
‘No, boxers. Why do you wear this style?’
‘Er, why do I wear them? Well, they’re comfortable, I suppose. Loose. I don’t feel hemmed in.’
‘Why might you feel hemmed in?’
He gives me a quizzical look. He has no idea where I’m going with this. I’m not sure I do either.
‘Well, as a man, I have certain anatomical features, which you may have noticed.’
‘You have a cock. I’ve noticed. I’ve also noticed that it seems to rule your life, boy.’
‘Said the pot to the kettle.’
‘Excuse me! I don’t have a cock and besides, that’s highly disrespectful and I’ll have to punish you for it.’ I give him my darkest frown. He visibly subsides. ‘What I mean to say is that you wear that particular style of underwear because it doesn’t hurt you when you get hard. Don’t you?’
‘Maybe.’ Shifty eyes flick down to the floor.
‘Because you’re a disgusting pervert who can’t look at a woman without getting an erection, aren’t you? You’re a sleazy sex-mad creep whose mind never leaves the gutter …’ I have to stop. I’m going to laugh. This is so hypocritical, and if he doesn’t make some wisecrack that completely kills the scene after about five seconds more of this, he isn’t the man I think he is. ‘Let’s just have them off, shall we?’
I wrench them down, almost bending his cock out of shape so that he hisses in a breath.
‘Fragile, is it?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Why is it hard? What are you thinking of, to make it so hard already?’
‘I’m thinking of your arse in that shiny outfit, actually, ma’am.’
‘Dirty, dirty boy.’ I reach out and grip his balls, giving them a good squeeze. ‘You’ve got lots
of juice stored up for me, haven’t you? Lots and lots of it. I expect you’d like to release a little bit of that, wouldn’t you?’
‘I wouldn’t … say no,’ he gasps. He is looking at me with stunned respect. I think he’s enjoying himself more than he expected to.
‘Good. You won’t be saying no tonight. Not to me – because I won’t allow it. You’re my boy for the night and you’ll do exactly what I want.’ I let go of his testicles and bat his cock from side to side with a cruel finger. ‘Springy,’ I comment. ‘Such a nice little toy for me.’
The intent look on his face suggests that he is waiting for me to wrap my hand around it, maybe give it a few pumps up and down. No way, boy. Not yet.
‘Turn around,’ I order. ‘Let me have a look at your arse, since you seem so preoccupied with mine.’
Since Lloyd took over the hotel management, he’s been availing himself of that free gym membership like a man with an addiction to kettlebells. His backside is a piece of sculpture, firm and tight and round and biteable as an apple.
It seems a shame to harm it. But harm it I must.
I smack one rubber-gloved hand down on his right cheek, such a lovely sound. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even lose control of a breath.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he says flirtatiously, wiggling his hips. ‘Do you want me to bend over too?’
‘No. I want you to crawl over to where those cuffs are hanging. Get on your hands and knees. Now.’