Chapter Twelve
Cassius
I am back in the sitting room before Harmon is, and I kneel in place, like he told me to.
My legs are already getting sore, but with time, I’ll get used to it.
Sitting in a cramped spot isn’t new to me.
I sleep on a bunk bed meant for a child, squished in a room with my two sisters. It’s fine. I can handle this.
But I don’t know what the cramps being the thing that’s bothering me says about me.
I’m fine walking around practically naked, in an outfit meant for a gigolo.
I’m fine being told to kneel and call him Master.
I’m fine being patted and called a good boy.
But kneeling is my problem? That’s what’s stressing me out?
Cool. I can handle this.
Harmon walks in seconds later and takes his seat on the end of the couch, by me.
He’s wearing a matching pajama set—navy cotton pants with a matching t-shirt. It feels too plain and simple for him. I’ve seen him in nothing but a suit until now, and I try not to laugh and make this weird. Did I think he slept in the suit? Maybe.
“I’m sure you’ve been wondering what exposure practice is,” he comments.
“I have,” I admit.
“Since we’re new to each other, and still getting to know one another, I’d like us to do something to get comfortable being naked around each other, since, as you know and agreed to, is part of the job.”
“I’m fine being naked,” I say.
He raises a brow as if he doesn’t believe me.
“And would you be fine bending over in front of me on this table and sticking a plug in your hole for me to watch?”
“I, uh…” Fuck. There goes my dick again. “Okay, maybe not.”
“Exactly,” he says simply. “It’s not only about being naked, it’s about getting comfortable with yourself in front of me so we can get to the fun stuff.” He shifts, straightening his back more. “But since you’re so sure you’ll be comfortable, then stand over there and strip.”
I get to my feet and walk to the spot he pointed to, on the other side of the coffee table and directly in front of him. I hook my fingers in the waistband of these shorts, but then I’m hit with nerves.
It’s just a naked body.
I’m sure he’s seen plenty of naked guys.
I’ve seen plenty and plenty have seen me. But this is different. So much different because I’m being put right on the spot. On full display for him to see.
I blink a few times, and he comes back into focus, watching me patiently as he tends to do. That brings me a small bit of comfort, but I’m still worrying about things I shouldn’t be worried about.
What if my dick isn’t satisfactory?
Well, why does that matter if we aren’t having sex?
What if I get hard?
I’m sure he’s used it. And maybe he will like it.
He said sex is not a part of this, but sexual things are.
I mean, one of the questions on the paper asked if I was okay jerking off in front of people. It didn’t say that exactly, it was much more professionally worded, but I know what it meant.
Of course I said yes. I do it with Abe all the time, so what’s the difference doing it with this guy? Five grand, that’s the difference, meaning, I’m more eager to do it with Harmon.
And that is enough to have me shoving my shorts down and stepping out of them. I adjust my balls and my stance so I’m comfortable, then let my hands fall to my sides.
His gaze goes from my face, slowly perusing down my stomach, right to my dick—which is half hard. It stays there for what feels like forever, then flicks over to my wrist, goes down to my feet and back to my face.
I don’t have an issue with my body. I don’t work out, but I am in shape since I walk everywhere.
I don’t have defined abs, but I have a shapely body.
I’m happy with it, and I haven’t had any complaints from the guys I’ve been with.
Though, none of them have been men in the way Harmon Stone is a man.
So, yeah, I’m feeling a teeny bit insecure.
Especially because he’s still staring at me like I’m the most interesting piece of art he’s ever seen.
He’s staring at me like… I’m worth something.
“You are magnificent,” he says slowly.
The praise makes my dick happy, and it twitches, causing his gaze to go back to it.
“You have no reason to be ashamed,” he says.
“I’m not.”
“Good. Because I like knowing I excite you.”
“Do you?” I ask, my voice raspy.
“Mm,” he hums. “It’s all part of it.”
I assume he means the Master/slave thing. This job. What I’m doing for him, even though he’s somehow doing so much more for me.
“Are you as comfortable as you thought?” he asks.
“Not quite.”
“But you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“Okay enough to go to the bar over there and make me a drink?” He gestures with a flick of his wrist to a small bar in the corner of the room, opposite the fireplace, to my left.
“I can do that,” I say with a nod. “What would you like?”
“Whiskey is fine.”
I walk to the bar, feeling his gaze on me all the way. With each step, it gets easier, and I become more comfortable.
There are only two bottles on the bar—gin and whiskey—with a handful of glasses. As carefully as I can, I pour him some whiskey and walk back to him.
“On this side,” he says, pointing to where I kneel. I move around to that side and offer the drink. He pats his lap. “Sit.”
“You want me to sit on your lap?”
His brow raises, and I know the answer to the question. I try not to be awkward as I sit on his lap, all while trying not to squish his dick. His right arm rests on my lower back, while the other takes the drink from my hand.
“Is this weird for you?”
“A little awkward maybe.”
“Something you could get used to?”
I think about it to try to figure out why it’s uncomfortable.
“I think so. It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”
He nods as if he understands, then takes a sip before putting the glass on the end table. His hand comes to rest on my thigh, his fingers way too close to my balls.
“Is this okay?”
I nod. He begins to draw little circles along my thigh, causing goosebumps to erupt and my dick to get harder.
“As I’m sure you can see,” he starts. “Touch is a big thing for me, and I want you to enjoy it too. Sex doesn’t need to be involved for things to be intimate, you understand that, right?”
“Yes,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry.
“You’d marked yes on masturbating to completion in front of me.
” It’s a statement, not a question, so I don’t say anything.
“This is something I am hoping we can work up to quickly. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to push harder with your training, but only if you’re comfortable with it. Are you comfortable with it?” he asks.
His tone is so low, calm, and soothing.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
The hand on my back applies more pressure.
“I’m glad you are asking questions and not just agreeing.
The schedule I gave you today was going to be the schedule for the week, with slight adjustments.
But since you’re doing well and are comfortable, if your body language and words aren’t deceiving me, I’d like to get right to it tomorrow. ”
“As in jerking off in front of you?”
“Perhaps. If that’s what I am in the mood for at the time. Or a toy in your pretty little hole. Only time will tell.”
My dick is leaking. Achingly hard, pointing upward. I’m getting delirious. When I glance at Harmon, he’s looking down at my dick, licking his lips, like he’s about to take me into his mouth. I throb at the thought, even though I know it isn’t going to happen. That’s not what this is.
There is no sex, and definitely no feelings involved. It’s transactional, that’s it.
“You do have a beautiful cock, Cassius Carr.”
“Holy fuck,” I mutter, my head falling back on my shoulders.
“Have you ever come hands-free before?”
“No,” I grit out.
“You look like you may.”
“Feels like it.”
His fingers keep drawing little designs on my skin, teasing the hell out of me.
He says, “When is the last time you came?”
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to keep my breathing even. “A week, maybe.”
“That’s quite a while for someone your age.”
“I don’t exactly have alone time.”
“Well, being here will be a treat for you then.” He taps my thigh. “Up.” I get to my feet and turn to face him. He looks like he’s struggling too, and I glance down to find him hard as well. Which confuses me.
If we’re both hard, and clearly both want to get off, why not just do it?
Maybe he has someone else for that? I don’t know, but it’s not something I’m comfortable enough asking yet. Maybe tomorrow.
He takes a step closer to me. “If you need to get off, you can.”
“I—what?”
“You could come on me. I wouldn’t hate that.”
Something in his voice has changed. It’s darker. A little mischievous.
“I have a cum fetish. You may as well learn that now. I don’t expect you to get off in front of me today; it’s your first day. But if you want to, I won’t say no.”
“But I thought… I thought you made the rules?”
“I do. And that’s why I’m leaving it up to you.”
I don’t know what the right answer is. Do I want to get off? Fuck yes, I do. My dick hurts, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I would come so quickly too. And on him? Jesus fucking hell. Me coming on the CEO of Stone Timeworks? How many people can say they did that?
But another part of me feels like this is a test. Is he testing my control? I don’t know, but it’s too much of a thought that I say, “We can save that for tomorrow.”
It hurts me to say it. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I want to see him covered in my cum right this fucking second.
He smiles softly, and something like relief is in his eyes.
“I look forward to it,” is his response. “So how about you bend over and show me your hole then, so I have something to think about when I jerk off later?”
I’m so dizzy from his words that I don’t even remember bending over in front of him, but here I am, bent over the coffee table, feeling his eyes burning every inch of my behind.
My legs are spread, and I know I’m open to him for him to see.
I didn’t wax or shave or anything—I didn’t think to do that since I’ve never done it before, and he didn’t ask me to.
Time passes weirdly, and I have no idea how long I’m spread out for him to feast on with his eyes, but eventually, he pats me on my hip and tells me to kneel.
Though we’ve communicated during each part of this day, he asks me more questions.
What my biggest challenge was. What I enjoyed.
What tomorrow will look like. We do exactly what the schedule said and reflect on this day.
My dick thankfully goes down, and I can think more clearly.
Talking to him like this gives me a peace of mind I didn’t realize I would need.
If we can have so much sexual tension between us, then sit and chat and feel like everything is normal, then we can do anything.
I can do anything.
“And do you feel like you want to come back tomorrow?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Not like you have to or need to? But you want to?”
“I want to. I enjoyed this more than I thought I would.”
“How so?” he asks.
“Well, you know I’m not experienced, so I didn’t know what to expect. It was intimidating, but I feel better than I thought I would. I didn’t feel awkward or weird.”
“That’s good to hear, Cassius. I want more than anything for you to be comfortable here. Eventually, this is going to be second nature for us. I can already tell.”
I smile at his praise, because yes, that was praise. And there’s only more to come.
“You did an amazing job today. I look forward to tomorrow.”
“So do I.”
He gets up, offers me his hand, and helps me to my feet.
“You’re free to leave. The front door will lock automatically when you go, and the gate will open once you pass the water fountain. I’ll text you the code for the gate in the morning.”
With another small smile, and a slight head nod, he leaves.
So I go to my room, change into my clothes, and head home.