He strips off slowly, his hips betraying his eagerness; belt, jeans, red lace thong. I ignore the lingerie, I want what’s under it, and I want to see it in his hand.

“Like this, Miss?” His voice is soft and gruff, and he handles his cock idly, lips parted, tongue peeking out in concentration. I nod and smile and he shudders and grins, pleased with himself.
“Slower,” I say, plainly, clearly, “now kneel.” He grins at the direction and slows to a gentle pull, eyes on mine as he sinks to his knees. Smiling still, he jerks his cock, enjoying the theatre of it all. He quickens his pace, his enthusiasm and the pleasure have taken over. I raise my foot and nudge him, firmly, in the middle of his chest.
“I said slowly.”
“Yes Miss, I’m sorry.”
I retract my foot and place it on the floor between his legs.
“Whose cock are you stroking?”
“Yours, Miss. You own it, as you own all of me.”
“Good boy.”
He flushes and shudders at the praise and pumps his cock harder, again, lost in desperate sensation. My foot kicks up, beneath him, just far enough to thump his balls.
“What did I just tell you?”
“Slow, Miss.”
“If I have to tell you a third time, you’re going to wish you’d listened.”
“Yes, Miss. I won’t. I’ll be good.”
He squares his shoulders and begins again, slowly this time, forearms flexing as he alternates hands, his tongue revealing itself at the corner of his mouth again, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and chest. I watch him, his eyes are soft with dedication but glinting with mischief as he picks up speed again, roughly masturbating, ignoring my instructions. I stand up and begin to walk out of the room and he stops, his voice is smaller and worried.
“Keep going. Stay hard.” I say over my shoulder.
I return in a few moments to him stroking slowly, his cock softening in his hand, eyes down as I return to my chair.
“What’s this?” nudging it with my toe.
“I lost it. I’m sorry, Miss.”
“Why did you lose it?” I’m aware that he has noticed the tube of ointment in my hand as I unscrew the cap and squirt a blob into my palm.
“I lost it because … Miss is that …?”
“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.” I look at him firmly and he lowers his eyes and then looks back up.
“I lost my hard on because I thought I had disappointed you.”
“You did. My instructions were simple and clear, just as the rules are: when you disobey, you are punished.”
My palmful of Tiger Balm is warm and tingling and he whimpers as I reach between his legs, slathering his soft, tender cock with it. He cringes and begs but it’s too late. I sit back and watch him for a few moments before I speak.
“Now start again. Slowly.”

Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.