Chapter 3
Ian knelt on the floor a few feet from the door, knees wide apart, causing his groin hair to alternately pull and tickle. The feelings were delightful mini bits of pleasure pain, hints of what was to come later. He shoved the ice pack down the codpiece and pressed it firmly to his groin, gasping and wheezing for a few seconds. His Master’s words told Ian he required Ian to be soft, and this was one sure way to accomplish that goal. Ian was nearly giddy with anticipation. A milking or over stimulation might be in Ian’s immediate future. Certainly, some sort of sounding bar was on the menu for tonight, otherwise Ian wouldn’t need to be completely limp when Taren arrived.
He quivered, and not from the cold between his legs.