Page 19 of His Master

The fact that he was so filthy helped me to make up my mind about what I would do with him when we reached my apartment.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, I tugged Simon forward, veering towards my bedroom instead of to the kitchen and dining room area, despite being hungry.

“You’re a filthy mess,” I told him as I walked him through my bedroom and on to the en suite. “You need cleaning up before you’re presentable for supper.”

“Yes, Master,” Simon said, a forlorn note in his voice.

He was back in his servile role, which felt good, though I couldn’t put my finger on why. It was more than the obvious. Even though I sensed there was a lot to Simon and that he was most likely good at whatever he did, being a slave seemed to suit him better. I really couldn’t explain it, just that the more he committed to being a slave, the calmer the vibes I got from him were.

“I could use a shower, too,” I said, pulling him to a stop on the soft bath mat in front of my extra-large walk-in shower. I unhooked the leash and tossed that aside, then unclasped his wrist restraints. “Undress me.”

Simon sucked in a breath, and his eyes took on a light that made me smile. He rushed to undo the button of my suit jacket, sneakily stroking the fabric for a moment, like he gained pleasure from my suit alone.

Actually, the way he worked to undress me and the reverence he showed for my clothing made me think that maybe he did have something for suits in and of themselves.

“Do you like an alpha in a suit?” I asked, my mouth quirking up into a grin on one side.

“Yes, Master,” he said as though moaning with pleasure. He dared to peek up at me for a moment, then added, “I…I really like them.”

I hummed, smiling even more as I caught on to his fetish. As he continued to undress me, I said, “Maybe I’ll have to wrap you up in my suit jacket next time I fuck you.”

His hands faltered on the buttons of my shirt. Oh, he definitely liked that idea.

“Whatever pleases you, Master,” he said, eyes shining, cheeks pink, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his cum-crusted lips.

My cock twitched over how dead sexy Simon was as a happy sub, aching to please me.

It withered again a moment later when Simon’s contented smile melted off, replaced by a strained, guilty look.

“What is it?” I asked, hooking my fingers under his chin and forcing him to look up at me. “Why did you stop smiling?”

I felt a deep, internal tug of something when his eyes met mine, like a doorway right into Simon’s soul had opened and closed in the blink of an eye. But in that fraction of a moment, I’d been able to sense Simon’s longing and his shame, his needs and his self-revulsion.

I sighed and cupped the side of Simon’s messy face, rubbing my thumb over his lips. His humid breath danced across the pad of my thumb as he panted, but he didn’t make a move to either suck my thumb in or push me away. My heart squeezed and pulsed in ways that should have disturbed me, the emotion was strong and had come over me so quickly, but instead, I just let the feeling sit there.

Simon wouldn’t have been the first playmate racked by feelings of self-loathing that I’d played with. A lot of omegas masochists, a lot of masochists in general, were repulsed by the things they liked. And I got it. I definitely did. There were timeswhen I wasn’t proud of my sadistic streak and the things I’d done or wanted to do to omegas in the past.

It was more than that. I knew what it felt like to loathe a part of yourself. I’d done things, personally and professionally, that I didn’t like. I’d changed from the man I once was, but the hunger for cruelty was still in me.

Paradoxically, Simon’s sweetness and innocence brought it out in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

I shifted my hand so that I gripped the top of his throat above his collar and squeezed. Simon’s eyes went wide for a moment, and his mouth opened, though he couldn’t take a breath.

“You’re mine,” I told him fiercely, “and you are exactly the way I want you.”

I slammed my mouth over his, tasting musk and heat as I thrust my tongue into his mouth, but also breathing in his flowery-sweet scent. It was a heady combination, and the way his body flinched as his air started to run out, the way he grasped the sides of my unbuttoned shirt and held on, seemed to set the world on the right axis again.

We both gasped for breath when I let him go. Simon’s eyes were huge, and despite the fear that rippled from him, his cock had gone hard.

I thanked every god I could think of that I was Simon’s first fantasy partner. Some of the friends I’d once had who loved this same brand of fantasy would have eaten him alive and probably scarred him for life, he was such a masochist.

“Now,” I panted, vowing to myself that I would give Simon everything he needed while fiercely protecting his innocent heart, “finish undressing me and wash me.”

“Yes, Master,” he croaked, rushing to undo the rest of my buttons.

I praised him and caressed him as much as I could as he peeled me out of my clothes, then as I led him into the shower and turned on the water to warm.

I’d had the shower custom-designed for playtimes. Not only did it have several showerheads and jets that shot out from the walls at various levels, it came complete with tools for cleaning out. Not that omegas necessarily needed internal cleansing. Their bodies were designed to be fucked with as little fuss as possible. I’d played with a few betas, though, and they generally did need to be cleansed.

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