Suited

Seven

The hardware store was a bit confusing to him at first but the second store was more what he expected. It was a modish little sex shop that had some eye catching furniture pieces. Specifically, a free standing metal St. Andrew's cross that I needed to get my hands on. More accurately, him attached to.

Unfortunately, it would take two weeks to get one to the house because they were made to order, so I couldn't include it in my pre-contract fantasy. Once that document was signed though, he'd be on it asap and I allowed myself that thought. I'd been excited about the cross but there were other things I needed and Lawrence was plenty adrenalized as we perused the aisles. I decided to text him part of my list that I figured he could handle finding on his own and watched as his face became flushed.

I stood behind him, somewhat trapping him between myself and the display and leaned toward his ear. "Don't tell me you're intimidated by a couple of sex toys," I whispered. "I'm sure you're familiar with them."

"Yeah, but not for myself," he answered softly as his back pressed against my chest.

I slipped my hand around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He flinched when he felt me press against him, too many layers of clothing separating me from him. "Just pick what you think you'd like."

He was quiet a moment before he said, "I think I'd like you, Signore," in that gently fractured, gritty voice that made me push myself further into him until he was flush against the shelf and he whimpered.

It took everything in me to keep myself from dragging him to the ceramic floor but I managed. "You'll get me as long as you follow directions."

He reached his hand between us, his slim fingers fondling me over my pants without warning. I allowed a grunt to escape me but nothing more. "You're big," he mused.

"I know."

"What size toy should I pick? What'll match?"

I decided to give him a challenge. I needed him distracted long enough for me to finish my shopping without him making me jizz myself. Of course, I could drag him into the restroom and make him take care of the problem he'd started but I'd like to think I'm a little classier than that. I'd at least wait until we got into the car—No—I made myself try to calm down. I'd set expectations already. I wouldn't be diverted from them.

I stepped out of his grasp and turned him around. "Eighteen centimeters." The second I spoke, a feisty mix of confusion and frustration washed over his face. Americans. I pointed down the aisle. "The dildos are that way. There are signs for everything else."

It took him a second but he nodded and started to walk away, taking out his phone to figure out the conversion. I cleared my throat. He glanced back.

"I expect you to respond when I speak to you," I ordered. I watched as his eyes went wide and he got fidgety. "Am I clear?"

"Sì, Signore."

When I had second thoughts about forgoing the car idea, I distracted myself with the impact toys on the far wall. The priority was a strap. I needed to see that boy turned crimson with one. I'd thought about it all night. It was a necessity. I found a gorgeous dark brown one with gold stitching and a handle that felt right in my hand.

Something caught my eye off in the corner. There was a display case with canes inside. There were synthetic ones that would definitely do damage but what had me so transfixed was a tiger rattan one. It was about a meter long with browns and tans swirling along its surface and a sturdy width.

One of the things I gave up being with Haydn was caning. In the years I'd been here, prior to my contract with him, it was a favorite of mine. Haydn wasn't much of a pain slut, nor a sadist. He wasn't big on pain in general. How did he and I even end up together? There was no way that would've worked long term. I loved making boys break. Corporeal punishment was one of my specialties.