There were so many things he wanted to do with Scott, it was almost impossible to decide what he wanted to invite him to do next. It was no use looking to Scott for hints of what he’d prefer. Scott wasn’t the kind of man who would ever find it easy to make his desires known to a dom.
Luckily, it wasn’t difficult for Joe to guess what kind of thing Scott would love—even if he was equally sure it was something Scott would always be way too embarrassed to mention.
Joe glanced down at Scott once more. If Scott had chosen to be spanked specifically because he thought it would please him, then it only seemed right that Joe should choose something that Scott would enjoy—even if it was something close to his personal idea of torture.
Joe nodded to himself as he made his decision. If there was one thing he was more certain of by the day, it was that Scott was the kind of sub it would be worth spending a night in purgatory for.
Part Eight: Be There
7 P.M. The corner of Churchill Street and Victoria Avenue.
Be There. (Wear a tie.)
In Scott’s opinion, the last note he’d received from Joe contained three things that he needed to panic about.
Firstly, there was the time of day. Dates with Joe almost always started late at night. Standing on a street corner and waiting for Joe while it was still daylight simply wasn’t natural. Robbed of the shadows he’d become used to over the last few weeks, Scott felt exposed and vulnerable in an entirely new way.
He stared down at his shoes for a few moments. When he looked up, he was immediately confronted by the second reason why hyperventilating seemed like a perfectly reasonable reaction—the location.
A street lined with expensive bars and restaurants, and situated in the most fashionable part of the city, wasn’t Scott’s natural habitat. Hell, a polar bear in the Sahara would have had more chance of blending in.
Every expensively dressed person who walked past him seemed to instinctively realise that he didn’t belong there; none of them bothered to hide their disapproval when they stared down their noses at him.
Scott took a deep breath. This wasn’t Joe’s usual part of the city either. Joe belonged in a world full of noisy bar rooms, and leather, and clubs where men did kinky, painful, glorious things to each other.
Tucking two fingers into his shirt collar, Scott tugged at the restrictive fabric. He felt like a schoolboy who’d been forced into his Sunday best to visit his posh relatives; whichbrought him very neatly to the third problem inherent in Joe’s commands.
Wear a tie.
That was the full extent of the command. Joe hadn’t actually given him permission to wear any other garments. Scott swallowed, his Adam’s apple fighting its way past his shirt collar with great difficulty. He had a nagging suspicion that Joe always intended his orders to be followed precisely.
Scott looked down at his neatly pressed black suit and his well-polished black shoes—neither of which had seen the light of day since his grandfather’s funeral. If Joe turned up and told him he had to strip off everything but his tie—right there in the middle of a nice polite street, surrounded by couples out on nice polite dates then…
Then Scott had the horrible feeling that he’d do it. He’d probably get slapped by a passer-by, then arrested for indecent exposure. But, God help him, if Joe issued the order, Scott knew he’d do it, and—
“I should have guessed that you’d be here ridiculously early.”
Scott spun around. Joe stood less than a foot away from him. Scott took a clumsy step back. Joe looked…not like Joe at all.
“You’re n-not wearing any leather,” Scott blurted out, as his shock got the better of him.
He pulled his gaze up to Joe’s face just in time to see his lips twist into a smile. Closing his eyes, Scott mentally cursed himself. “I’m s-sorry, I…”
Scott opened his eyes very wide as Joe put his hand over Scott’s mouth and silenced him.
Technically, there was nothing stopping Scott stepping back and regaining the ability to say whatever the hell he wanted. But technicalities didn’t mean a damn thing when Joewas around. Scott’s feet remained rooted to the same spot of pavement.
He stared up at Joe. Even if he hadn’t been gently gagged by Joe’s palm, he wouldn’t have been able to think of anything to say. All he could do was stare.
Joe had shaved. His usual whatever-o’clock shadow was gone. Scott’s hand itched with his desire to stroke his fingertips down Joe’s cheek, just for the novelty of it. He’d never known any part of Joe to be entirely hairless.
Heat rushed to Scott’s face as he thought about just how smooth Joe had ordered him to keep certain parts of his own body. His cock immediately tried to rise. His shaved balls became more sensitive than ever, and he whimpered behind Joe’s hand.
Joe’s smile widened, as if he could read Scott’s mind, and he loved making him squirm.
Scott glanced to his right, then his left. They were still on a public street. No one was staring at them, but that had to be more by luck than by judgement. He turned his attention back toward Joe.
Joe didn’t seem the least unnerved by the possibility of the whole world seeing them getting kinky. A shiver ran down Scott’s spine and immediately spread over every inch of skin on his buttocks.
