but he couldn’t help feeling jaded. He just kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Chapter Four
“I ’ve never been paddled before, sir,” Andrew said, the fear obvious in his voice as he stared at WhipperSnapper’s famous black leather spanking bench. After hours, the club was silent, only the sound of the young man’s uneven breath to be heard.
“It’s only a paddling,” Gregory reassured him. “It will hurt. Maybe you’ll cry. But you won’t be harmed by it. I want to give you something to remember me by every time you sit down until I can see you again.”
“That paddle looks . . . intimidating.”
Gregory laughed. “You’re only going to make it worse for yourself, the longer you wait to grab hold of that spanking bench. How can you call yourself a sub and never even have gotten a proper paddling?”
“I don’t know, sir. It never came up.”
“Well,” Gregory said, gently cupping the boy’s cock. “It came up now. Admit it. Say, ‘I want you to paddle me, sir, because it turns me on.’ ”
Andrew took a shaky breath and held on to the spanking bench as if it were a life jacket. “I want you to paddle me, sir, because it turns me on,” he repeated dutifully.
Did Gregory detect a note of arousal in there? Definitely.
“I love this ass,” he said, pulling Andrew’s black trousers down, followed by his gray boxer briefs. “This ass is perfect for spanking.”
For a moment, Gregory just rubbed Andrew’s beautiful bottom, smacking it lightly with his palm, enjoying the feel of it beneath his hand. If only he could fuck this ass. . . .
Soon. But not yet.
With a loud crack, Gregory brought the paddle down on Andrew’s ass, eliciting a delightful choked wail.
“Now, now, don’t hold back. You know the club is soundproofed. And that was just the beginning.”
A sob escaped Andrew’s lips, but his cock was still erect, dripping pre-come onto the black leather of the spanking bench.
“Where are we, Andrew? Use your colors.”
“I’m good,” he said shakily. “Green for go, sir.”
And with that, Gregory brought the paddle down on the already-blushing skin of Andrew’s ass cheeks.
“W hy did you ask me if I think Gregory deserves a soul mate?” Elisabeth asked Trevor, who was studiously tying her wrists together and attaching them to one corner of the four-poster bed.
“I think the better question is, why didn’t you ask that of yourself?” Trevor stood back and studied his handiwork. “Struggle.”
She tried to move her wrists, yanking on the ropes. They didn’t budge. “I’m all yours.”
“You need to be preparing yourself for where this is going. Gregory will be moving on, and so should you.”
“Move on from here?” she asked, horrified. She’d been trying so hard to be good for him. . . .
“Don’t be silly. I’ve just begun courting you.”
Elisabeth gasped as two of Trevor’s lubricated fingers slipped inside her pussy. “Is that what this is? Courting? Are we in a kingdom that I didn’t know about? Back in olden times?”
Trevor smiled, pressing a third finger inside her. “I consider myself to be a bit old-fashioned, yes.”
“Because me going up to you at WhipperSnapper and telling you I’m a pain-slut is how Grandma used to do it.”
“It was a perfectly old-fashioned way to meet,” he teased, and now four fingers were deep inside her, filling her. “I saw you first and asked for an introduction. I chose you before you even knew I existed. Now relax your muscles.”
“Oh my God,” Elisabeth breathed. She knew where he was going with this. Her arms pulled against their restraints despite how much she loved the erotic pain of being fisted. “Trust me, sir, I knew you existed.”
And there it was, his thumb, his hand pressing slowly inside her, past his knuckles, opening her wide until his fist was inside her cunt.
“How is that?” he asked.
“Horrible. Wonderful.” She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
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