It was all Scott could do to hold back a whimper. He had no idea how a man went about earning a “real” collar, or a tag like that, but gaining one shot to the top of his list of Joe flavoured fantasies.
While Scott was lost in his thoughts, Joe retrieved another item from alongside the cage. A black leather lead. He clipped it onto Scott’s collar. Another practical bit of bondage.
When Joe opened the door, Scott crawled out of the cage. He automatically started to stand up, but stopped short, not sure if that was something he had to have permission to do now. Helooked at the lead, then up at Joe, who raised an eyebrow at him in silent query.
“D-do I s-stand up, s-sir? Or do you w-want me to stay l-like this?”
“If it was full here, you wouldn’t be allowed to move around on your hands and knees—I’ve seen far too many crawling subs get stepped on in crowds, but, since we’re the only ones here…” He smiled.
Scott nodded. Putting his hands on the floor in front of him, he crawled forward a few feet before looking up at his surroundings.
A whimper rose up inside him. If the equipment in the club had looked intimidating when Scott was standing upright, from his new point of view, it was terrifying.
* * * * *
Joe stared down at Scott’s back. If his new posture made it more difficult for Joe to see Scott’s cock or his face, then at least it gave him a fantastic view of Scott’s arse. Joe slowed down to let Scott move a little way ahead of him, so he could properly admire how his buttocks clenched and released as he shuffled forward.
Scott, however, ignored all the slack on his lead and kept close to Joe’s side. If Joe had been interested in Scott’s ability to play the part of a good puppy rather than the joy of being able to perv on Scott’s arse, it would have been perfect.
He gave Scott a gentle tap with the crop to encourage him on ahead. Scott shot forward as if there’d been a hot ember on the crop tip.
He looked over his shoulder, obviously startled, but as soon as their eyes met, Scott smiled and ducked his head; a blush tinted his cheeks.
And Scott being slightly ahead of him provided a bonus completely separate from the view. Unable to follow Joe’s lead, Scott had to pick which piece of equipment to head towards next. Joe strolled along behind him, fascinated to see where Scott might crawl and what that might tell him about any kinks that lay undiscovered within him.
Water sports.
Scott headed straight for that part of the club as if there was a lighthouse, a homing beacon, and a SatNav all guiding his way.
Scott stopped at the archway that separated the wet rooms from the drier parts of the club. A two-foot wide metal grate extended from one side of the arch to the other. It probably wasn’t a comfortable thing to crawl across, but Joe had seen plenty of guys do it without coming to any harm. If Scott was as into water sports as his internal GPS implied, the grating wouldn’t stop him.
Joe stepped forward and leaned against the arch so he could study Scott’s profile more easily. He’d expected fascination, or perhaps uncertainty, because he didn’t know if Joe would share that particular kink.
Scott just looked bemused.
As Joe watched, Scott’s attention moved from the grating to the various parts of the tiled wet room. Pure confusion. He had no idea what he was looking at. Joe grinned.
As if sensing his amusement, Scott looked up at him.
“Want to guess what guys do in there?” Joe asked, confident that playing in there wouldn’t be high on Scott’s list of kinks if he didn’t even recognise the possibilities in the set-ups.
“W-w-water torture?”
“Close,” Joe said with a chuckle. “Water sports.”
He waited a few moments to see if Scott would recognise the term. He saw the moment when the penny dropped. “You m-mean when guys p-p-pee on each other?”
“That’s the basic idea.”
“You…” Scott trailed off.
“It’s not my thing, but there aren’t that many things I haven’t tried at one time or another.”
Scott glanced through the archway again. He still didn’t look enthusiastic.
Joe laughed. “Come on. I’m sure there are some other parts of the club that will fit your kinks better.”
Rather than let Scott pick the direction again, Joe resumed control. He led Scott, who still hadn’t complained about crawling at his feet, toward a high-backed metal bondage chair on the western edge of the club. There were trays of equipment on each side of the chair, and a frame that could hinge down over someone as they sat in the chair. Scott was too low down to see most of the things on the trays.
