My Trophy Boy

Chapter 35: Quinton's Morning

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A/N:
Here we go people, strap tight and put your seatbelt on! We're going on a ride🚘
Let me hear👀 your thoughts💭
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Q

"Ah!" *Breathes heavily*

*SLAP!*

"Ahhh!"

I was hesitant to continue..

*SLAP!!*

"ARGHH!"

*SLAP!!!*

The sound of the cracked paddled whip covered my shivering moan of release.

"ARHH-GROAARRRRR! *ROARS*...
F-FucK!" I panted, dropping the paddled-whip named 'Marmae'.

I am settled.
Glad that I've tamed my urges.

"Auhh.. *breathes heavily* .. uhhh.." I bit my lip.
"Mmm..." My body shook, my cock jittered into a twitch.

I was knelt on all fours. I had my eyes shut, allowing for all the physical feelings of sensations to bypass me.

.

I played with my drying blood. I was laying down flat on my stomach with my calves and feet pointing towards the ceiling.

I felt sticky(!), but that's no surprise when heat, blood and sweat mix together.
'That's what you get!' I said as quietly as a newborn cub, meowing for attention.

Felidae don't look for attention, they know within their arrogance that they've got it! Their actions are right to lead other animals.

I am calm..
I breathed taking in the scent of everything in my surroundings.

Okay time to clean up this mess! I groaned as I stood to my feet. With my back hunched I limped towards the 'safety' wall and lifted up the latch to embed a code. I needed a shower..

.

"Mr Grant!!" I shouted, wondering where he was.
"Mr-"

"I'm here Sire!" The man appeared from behind the kitchen cabinet.
"How can I help?" He smiled, tiredly.

"I wanted to say thank you. I was going to clean up my mess, but I needed to heal up in the shower first." I scratched the back of my neck.

"It's alright, Sire. I was walking by and I couldn't stand the mess of bloody footprints." He nodded his head. I patted his shoulder.

"Thank you." I had a look of appreciation in which I owed him.

This man was like my guardian... I owed him my life!

"What's your plans for today?" The grey haired man sat at the island, preparing himself a cup of tea.
"Would you like a cuppa, sire?" He 'clocked' my gaze.

'Clocked' was a term my baby, Holland used. His use of slang mixed with a standard etiquette was intriguing as both came very natural to him. I liked when he speaks 'freely' around me, but I would need to encourage a more advanced standard from him if I am to bring him into my world, otherwise people will find it hard to understand him. Let them! He's mine and doesn't need to speak to anyone! Let him sit like the pretty little lamb he was.
'I am possessive not controlling' I said to myself.

"No thank you! My day will consist of meetings and paperwork, maybe a visit from my mother." I turned up my nose.

"Okay. Is there anything you would like me to prepare them, Sire?" He took a sip of his pipping hot tea.