I can’t believe my luck. Can’t believe he’s here, and I’m here, and he actually wants to help me with this kind of shit.
“Well, I, I kind of worry about things like taxes and insurance and all that. I started my new job almost six months ago, and I don’t know if there’s something special I should be doing about my taxes or if it’s something work sorts out for me.” Now that I’ve started spilling, I can’t seem to stop. “I kind of worry about going to jail for tax fraud or something, but I’m also too scared to ask at work in case I look like a fool. I don’t know where to start. I-I…”
“Oh, baby,” he says, rubbing a hand up and down my back. “You have so much going on right now. You’re doing so many new things, and you’re learning so much. You have enough on your plate. I’m going to take care of all this for you. I don’t want you to waste another second thinking about it. Just know that it’s handled, okay? When you’re ready, I’ll teach you, but for now, it’s my problem, not yours.”
I swallow and nod, slipping into a cool aquamarine gaze without so much as a splash. Before I have time to come up for air, I find myself cupping my hand to his ear and whispering so softly it feels almost like I’m not the one saying it, “I like it when you take care of me, Daddy.”
He smiles, for real this time, a soft, warm smile that neatly cradles a distinct look of pride. His look is open and honest, so much so that I feel like it would be dishonest to keep anything from him. I whisper again, even more quietly, if such a thing is possible, “I liked the belt too.”
“Hmm.” He smiles, heating, teetering on the brink of something dark. “Would you like to see what else I have?”
“Yes, Daddy!” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but his tone is so rich and intoxicating that I know for sure I want what he’s offering.
“Open the top drawer.”
I reach for the drawer closest to me, but as I do it, Stuart guides my arm up. My hand lands on a tiny knob I haven’t noticed before, and I slide open a drawer that runs the length of the desk. A drawer so narrow it’s almost completely hidden from view.
“Ggguck,” I say as I look inside.
Stuart expels a quick breath through his nose. “I built this desk in my final year at school. It was my big project for shop. My teacher couldn’t understand why I insisted on this drawer. He marked me down for it because he said no one would use it.” He runs his fingers lightly down my back, tracing a line up and down my crack. “And wasn’t he wrong?”
I blink slowly as I look down. Stuart cups my ass cheeks, gently at first, then harder, rubbing life into the stripes he gave me. My hips buck, and I squirm worse than before. Last time, it was soft. This time, it’s sure. An unmistakable jolt forward followed by a big, slow circle as I grind myself against Stuart’s erection.
“May I?” I breathe.
“Of course.”
I reach out hesitantly, my hand shaking as if expecting to touch something hot. I waver, so spoiled for choice that I’m unsure where to start. He chooses for me. He holds my arm, lightly supporting me under my wrist, and guides me, dipping my hand down on a heavy wooden paddle and then a narrow one, both gleaming with a high-gloss finish and punctured with holes that make them look like slices of swiss cheese.
“I-is that a lexan?”
His indulgent smile tells me it is. He makes me touch it next, and as my fingers make contact with the smooth, unforgiving surface, a deep tremor passes through me. I’ve spent years watching guys getting their asses lit up by paddles like these in porn clips. I’ve jerked off to it for years. Years and years. But I’ve never even seen one in real life before, much less touched one. Excitement and dread pulse through my veins. I blink fast as if to clear my field of vision, but when I find focus again, it’s all still there. A big, shallow drawer of dreams. Each implement is carefully housed, laid on a bed of dark-brown suede. Each one has tiny knobs and hooks, keeping them perfectly in place. Methodically made, laboriously positioned.
“Is that a cane?” I ask.
I know damn well it is. What else could it be? It’s just that I want to touch it so much that my throat aches at the thought, but I’m too afraid to do it on my own. He guides my hand to it and lets me run a finger down its length. I cringe as I do it, shoulders shaking in something almost like revulsion, but it falls short. Where it falls short, in that space between revulsion and rampant curiosity, lives a terrible, terrible hunger. It’s greedy and vicious, insatiable, and right now, it’s bigger than me.
“Have you like…do you…have you used the cane before, Daddy?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve caned lots of boys and a few girls as well, but don’t worry, baby, the cane is only for very, very serious punishment. It’s for willful disobedience, not something good boys like you need to worry about.”
I swallow and swallow, trying my best to drink down the insane urge to argue.
I lean into Stuart’s chest, burrowing my face into his neck, sniffing loudly, and only just managing to stop myself from licking and biting his neck like an animal. Instead, I plant soft kisses along his jugular. His head drops to the side, and I work my way up to his ear. I suckle softly on his earlobe and whisper, “I’m so horny, Daddy.”
We both look down at my lap as he lifts my top. My dick peers out from under it, arching back toward my body, sinewy and strong, weeping profusely. He circles my dick in his fist, squeezing hard at the base, squeezing sense and reason right out of me. I whine loudly, unwisely rocking my hips even though he has my dick in a vise.
“Are you going to be a good boy for Daddy?” I hear cause and effect. Consequences and lust.
“Yes, Daddy! I swear I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you—”
“I bought something pretty for you. Will you put it on for me?”
My head whips up and down hard enough to give me whiplash.
His smile is darker than ever before, and when it hits me, it lands like the crack of a belt.
“Come upstairs with me, baby,” he says. “I’m going to teach you to ride, and I’m going to teach you to milk every drop of cum from my cock.”
