Carlo’s eyes are scrunched up tight. His cheeks are flushed. My poor love is embarrassed. But he doesn’t need to be.
I move the urinal bottle towards his cock. Gently, I touch his pride and glory. It is hot and heavy, and it makes a feeling like electricity buzz all the way through me.
But I have to ignore that and be professional. Right now I’m looking after him. The fun can come later.
I place his cock into the bottle.
“You can pee now.”
“I can’t piss like this!” he grinds out through gritted teeth.
“I’m not looking.”
“Ginni…”
“The sooner you pee, the sooner this is all over.”
A deep, heavy sigh releases from Carlo. As if he is thoroughly and utterly exasperated with me. Which I can understand. He hasn’t received any of the perks of being mine yet. He has only experienced the small downsides. Like being drugged, stripped and handcuffed to a bed. And having to pee in a bottle.
For a man used to being in control, it is a big change. A lot to get used to.
He is going to need time, and I can be gracious and allow him some. Though not too much. I have been waiting five unbearablylong years for his dick. There are limits to my patience. I’m not a saint.
The sound of pee filling the bottle reaches my ears. I smile. Another victory.
I wait until he is finished and then I give his cock a little shake, and remove the bottle. I straighten, and screw on the lid.
Carlo still has his eyes closed and his face turned away from me. But all his olive skin is naked before me. Motionless and compliant. Stark against the white sheets.
“Good boy,” I breathe happily.
His soft cock twitches. It’s practically a bounce. My heart flutters and I bite back my happy squeal. This is perfect. Beyond perfect.
I skip back to the bathroom and deal with the pee. I wash my hands thoroughly and grab a bottle of lube before hurrying back to Carlo.
I cannot wait any longer. His cock twitched for me. At merely my words.
He deserves a reward.
Carlo’s gaze darts to the industrial-sized bottle in my hand. His eyes narrow. He watches me warily as I stalk towards him.
“Ginni… what are you doing?”
There is a breathless uncertainty in his voice. A slight hitch. It is music to my ears. A symphony composed by a maestro.
“It’s finally time to play,” I tell him as sheer giddy glee floods my soul.
I perch on the edge of the bed and diligently slather lube all over my hands.
“Ginni…” he says again, trying to warn. Attempting to growl, but he sounds a little too panicked for it to land right.
“Relax,” I tell him. “I’m going to give you a lovely handjob. It’s going to make you feel so good. You are going to be so happy.”
His dark eyes are enormous.
“Touching me is a line you can’t uncross,” he rasps, and then he licks his lips.
“I know,” I sigh happily.
