“That’s not a reward, that’s payment.”
“It’s basically the same thing.”
Smirking, he watches me, humor dancing in his eyes. “Consider it a bonus then.” He walks up to me, closing the distance between us. “And if I have to warn you again about not speaking back, therewillbe punishment.”
My mouth drops open. This is new.
I agreed to that on the form because I didn’t think it would happen. I knew I would follow the rules and do anything he asked because I was desperate for the money. I guess I’ve gotten too comfortable with him. He was easy on me in training, but he did warn things would get stricter. It’s not bad, just… more difficult to follow.
“Now,” he says, putting his hand on my lower back. “Come over to the table and lie down like the good boy I know you can be.”
I move to the table wordlessly. There is a hole in it, about halfway down… and it’s not the one for your face because that one is up at the top.
I glance at him, and he’s smiling.
“This morning, I want to give you a break.”
“From what?”
“Providing for me.”
I swallow hard. “You mean I’m not going to—”
Jerking off onto his breakfast on Saturday mornings is by far my favorite thing, closely followed by falling asleep on his lap while he runs his fingers through my hair.
“Oh, you are,” he says, a knowing look in his eye. “We’re just going to do things differently this morning.” He pats the table, and my gaze goes back to it.
“How do I, uh… Which way…”
“Use your head,” he whispers, and my cheeks go hot.
It hits me then. What this is… I saw a video once…
My dick instantly gets hard, and I quickly get on the table before he notices.
Though, I guess that’s pointless, because it is the point of this.
“Relax. I’ll be right back.” He brushes his fingers along the back of my neck. “I’m going to gather everything I need. I ran late this morning, so I wasn’t able to do it before you arrived.”
I hear the blood rushing through my ears—obviously passing by to go directly to my dick. He said we wouldn’t do anything sexual, and I guess this could be considered sexual, but if it isn’t for the purpose of getting off, then it’s not, right? And I did agree to this. I can’t think clearly right now, but there’s a fuzzy image of something that fits this on that paper I filled out.
Not that I care anyway. Because I don’t. This is so hot and I am so ready for it. Fuck the contract and anything I agreed to. This man can do whatever the hell he wants to me, when he wants, how he wants. If he can make me feel so good and relaxed by running his fingers through my hair, I can only imagine what he can do with my dick.
My dick that hasn’t been touched by someone who isn’t me in a very,verylong time.
I feel his presence when he comes back into the room, and he speaks softly to let me know he’s returned and didn’t want to scare me.
He’s so thoughtful.
“Before I get what I need from you, I’d like to give you a massage to help you relax. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I say, though it comes out mumbled from my face being squished in the face-hole.
“If you want me to stop at any point, say so.”
I don’t answer, and a moment later, his hands are on me, warm and smooth from whatever oil he’s using. A few brushes along my spine, and the minty scent reaches my nose. His fingers glide up and down my spine, around my shoulder blade, along the top of my ass, over my shoulders. My neck. The base of my skull.
I’m trying my hardest not to drool. I’m in a sort of trance—a foggy, relaxed state that I’ve never felt before. And it hits me all at once why that is.