Page 34

“Get the paddle,” I say, my voice a low growl.

Color drops out of his face and comes back too fast.

“Dmitri—”“

You have no idea what is headed your way,” I say, cutting him off. “I know how bad you are. I’ve seen now what you’re capable of.”

Elias swallows. He goes to his locker…

The backpack. The inner pocket. The small dark leather I put in his keeping.

The boy holds the paddle out with both hands and I take it from him.

“Trousers down. Jockstrap down. Present for your Master,” I say, emotionless.

He turns to the bench. The uniform peels. Black fabric cut high on the hips, the pale skin I have already mapped with my hand once before.

Elias bends. His ass offered to me, his cock and balls just about visible between his legs.

I can hear him breath loud in the quiet. I do not start with a blow. I lay the paddle on him…

I stroke the curve of one cheek.

Then the other.

The leather is cool. His skin is hot, clammy.

I drag the paddle down the backs of his thighs, slow enough that he has to feel every inch. Then I angle it and slip the face of it between his legs.

Inner thighs. Softer. The boy twitches. A sound leaks out of him and he bites it off.

“Stay still for me,” I command.

I work the paddle higher. Along his shaft. Around the head. Not spanking, simply warning.

When I rest it on the tip, I give him the pressure he is already chasing. Light taps. Measured.

“Oh, God…” Elias says under his breath.

The locker room fluorescent lights make it filthy in a way candlelight never could.

Elias’s arms shake. His hips try to follow the leather. I do not let the boy set the pace.

“Please… I… fuck…” Elias splutters, his words tumbling out of his mouth as his orgasm takes over and leaves him helpless to his body.

Elias breaks with a gasp and I see his cock spurt thick ropes of pure-white cum that would have carried to the bar were it not for the wall.

Then his knees go. He slides to the floor in a tangle of trousers, jock, heat and stunned breathing.

I lower the paddle to his mouth. It is wet with splashes of his seed.

“Lick it clean.”

The boy looks at me with wide, dazed eyes. His tongue moves over the leather.

Obedient. Thorough. Totally submissive to my commands.

When there is nothing left but the shine of spit I take it back.