Page 44 of One Night With The Nanny

But he was enthralled as he stared at the gorgeous black flogger. There were hot pink silk ribbons braided into the handle and matching pink stitching in the leather. Reid had enjoyed having a flogger used on him and he’d seen them in numerous videos and pictures, yet had never handled one himself. And the flogger wasn’t alone on its decadent pink velvet mat. There was a matching collar and leash with the same pink stitching and there were two sets of black leather handcuffs.

Reid’s hand was shaking as it floated over the flogger, he was so turned on and wildly nervous. “I don’t know, Max. I’ve had one used on me before… What if I hurt you?” he whispered, licking his lips as he took it out. He noticed that his initials were monogrammed on the end and there was an engraved tag on the handle.

He threw Max a stunned look, then checked the collar. It had a matching tag.

“You had this made for me?”

Max’s smile was gentle, patient, his cool eyes soft as they held Reid’s. “You won’t hurt me and I’d like to be your property. Everything in my life finally began to go right the moment you tied me to that bed and spanked me. I meant it when I said ‘anything.’ I’ll have them set up a Saint Andrew's cross in the dining room next weekend, if you’d like.”

“Easy, Max,” Reid said as he leaned back, hugging his flogger.

He shrugged as he set the case on the table and took out the collar and leash. “You have to have a hobby, Reid. You work hard and we wouldn’t want you to burn out or become sick. And I’m more than happy to indulge you.”

A sharp laugh burst from Reid. “We’re in the Royal Suite. We are so many levels beyond indulging and this can’t be my hobby.”

Max’s brow furrowed as he shook his head. “You misunderstand. We are in the Royal Suite because…it exists to provide people like myself with comfort and absolute privacy. I can’t indulge you in the manner you deserve at my place at the moment, and I doubt you want your roommates and neighbors to hear me screaming.” He gave Reid an expectant look, earning another wry snort.

“I really don’t.”

“That’s why we are here,” Max said, waving the collar at Reid. “I can request a Saint Andrew's cross in the dining room and you can practice and explore to your heart’s content because in here, no one will hear me scream.”

“I see…” Reid’s fingers twisted in the flogger’s tails. They were about as long as Reid’s forearm, wide, soft, and supple, so they wouldn’t sting or leave as many marks.

He appreciated the details and the craftsmanship, tuning out the rest. Reid didn’t ask himself why he wasn’t screaming “Yes!” and begging Max to marry him because he was perfect. He was everything Reid could ever want but couldn’t have because he’d have to make sacrifices to keep a man like Max.

That wasn’t happening because Reid didn’t want to change and he loved his life just the way it was. He couldn’t explain all of that to Max without ruining the mood and bringing the whole evening to a crashing conclusion, so Reid set aside his panic and his rules.

“You know the drill,” Reid told Max, reaching around him and shutting the case. “We’ll skip those. I doubt there’s anything I can handcuff you to and I want you to use your hands. Get undressed while I find myself a drink. Wear the collar and the leash,” he said as he went to search the suite and plan the rest of their evening.”

“Check the cabinet in the study,” Max suggested. “I asked them to stock the bar in there.”

“Brilliant,” Reid said, swinging the flogger over his shoulder as he strolled past the dining room. He shook his head at the thought of a cross in there, then recalled the baby grand piano in the living room. “Was Max exaggerating about no one hearing him?” he wondered out loud.

He peeked into the main bedroom’s foyer, whistling at the separate hallway and powder room. He was almost offended at the size and decadence, then rolled his eyes when he walked into the next room and found himself in a small gym. The kitchen was just around the corner so Reid leaned around the wall for a look.

“I might move out of Briarwood Terrace if I could live here,” he said, appreciating the simple, but stylish white galley kitchen. The oven was sexy and the ivory marble counters and mosaic floors were perfect. Reid remembered reading that it cost around $50,000 a night to stay in the absurdly opulent apartment—it was not a suite—and changed his mind.

He found the study across the hall and groaned in delight. The interior reminded him of men’s suiting. The walls and the built-in bookcase and cabinet were painted in a gorgeous pewter gray and coordinated beautifully with the blue and brown striped rug and tufted silver silk sofa and ottoman.

Reid shed his coat and poured himself a bourbon, neat, from the crystal decanters and scanned the books and art around the room before reclining in a tweed armchair. He toed off his loafers and unbuckled his belt as he sipped, thinking back on his past experiences with Dommes.

Most of Reid’s sexual partners were men. He felt most comfortable with himself, sexually, when he was with them. But every now and then, Reid wanted to be the one getting spanked and he didn’t want a man stepping on his face and making him beg when he was in those moods. He usually went to a professional and they tended to be athletic, dominant queer women and nonbinary people. Never people who identified as men, though, and Reid didn’t feel the need to examine why he got off on taking control of powerful, older men.

He tested the flogger against his own thigh as he drank, his cock getting harder and heavier with every thuddy sweep of its tails. Reid made note of the places he liked being flogged and spanked and where he’d need to be extra gentle or avoid. Max wouldn’t mind if he was bruised and raw in the morning—thoroughly punished—but that didn’t appeal to Reid.

Control was what he craved and he couldn’t belittle Max or inflict real pain. In fact, Reid suspected that tickling Max until he begged for mercy and the dopamine rush from hearing him laugh uncontrollably could be just as arousing and addictive.

“He did say ‘anything,’” Reid mused with a wicked grin, making a list. Feathers, pinwheels, and gloves with sexy claws… He imagined surprising Max next time, then shook his head. He had to stop coming up with more things for them to try. “Are you ready?” he called and sat forward so he could take off his sweater. It was extremely delicate so he folded it and set it on the glass coffee table.

“I’m ready,” Max said as he stepped into the room and clasped his hands behind his back. The leash hung from his throat, the handle stopping at his knees. His chin rose and his posture remained rigid and regal as he waited for Reid’s command.

Reid finished the last few sips, then held up the glass. “A refill, please.”

“My pleasure,” Max said, bowing as he approached and took the glass from Reid. He gave it a sniff before selecting the proper decanter and pouring.

“Have some if you’d like,” Reid said and Max took a drink and hummed.

“Very nice.” He passed it to Reid with another bow.

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