Page 247 of Bad for Me

It’s a good thing Ilikeknowing he’s uncomfortable for me.

As soon as he gets to my side, I coo at him that he’s a good slut before snapping the leash into place. “Open up,” I tell him, placing the bottle opening right next to his lips. “Don’t drink too much, or you might have to go piss. And wouldn’t it be humiliating to have to have me hold your cock while you do?”

Again.

I tilt the bottle up, heedless of whether Misha is ready. Some of the water spills past his lips and down his chin, but he opens his mouth and greedily drinks it all down.

I’ve had slaves who have refused to eat or drink, thinking that kind of defiance made them stronger. But the fact that Misha cooperates doesn’t mean he’s weak and compliant.

It means he’s smart, and the smart ones are always harder to tame.

It’s so much more satisfying to break the smart ones.

I pull the bottle away long before Misha can possibly have had his fill and cap it again. “You’ll get more if you please me.”

Misha laughs darkly. “Of course, Master.”

“One day, you’re going to say that like you mean it,” I tell him, stroking his chin. “In the meantime, I need to shave you.” I glance down at his body. He’s not too hairy, but I like clean-shaven men.

It’s so much better to be able to give a blowjob without getting a mouthful of pubic hair, and in time, I might just want to torment him one more way.

I grab his arm and get him standing. I imagine his muscles must be killing him from being in the same position all the time.

“Time for my pet to get a good wash and shave.” I laugh. “Like I’m taking you to the groomers.” I tug on the leash, and Misha stumbles forward a few tiny steps.

He can barely take a step with his legs like that, but I’m not about to make it easy for him.

We go at a slow pace, in which I delight in making him stumble and trip, until we’re finally at the large bathing room in the basement we use for all the slaves. The floor is completely tiled, with a large drain in the middle. The walls and ceiling have hooks on them to restrain even the most disobedient slave. There’s an enema nozzle, too, a whole setup to make everything easier for us.

I force Misha onto the cold tile floor, and with practiced ease, I switch his bonds so his arms and legs are bound, with him spread-eagle on the floor. He tugs against the cuffs, his stomach straining, and I watch him with appreciation.

“I’m going to shave you thoroughly,” I tell him. “You’ll want to be as still as you can for that part, of course.” I pause, considering. “I might just wax around your cock, though. That would last longer.”

Misha goes completely red in the face, for all that he’s trying to pretend he isn’t affected. The lack of food and sleep aren’t helping him remain calm, either. I reach out to fondle his cock, and I’m gratified by how easily it starts to harden under my touch.

“Little slut,” I say affectionately, grinning as he averts his gaze.

“Whatever,” Misha grumbles.

I chuckle. “Is that the best you can come up with? You started out so mouthy.”

He’ll probably blame the lack of food and water, the lack of rest, but the truth is that I’ve seen him sink into subspace more than once. For all that he hadn’t consented to this, his body tells another story entirely.

“All right,” I say, studying him. I could get one of the other slaves to do this for me, but I feel oddly possessive of Misha. I’ve never actually shaved another man before, let alone waxed one, but I’ve had to help out with the female slaves before.

This promises to be considerably more fun.

Everything I need is in a nearby caddy, and I grab the loofah before considering him for another moment. “Do you think you deserve hot water?” I ask him.

Misha looks at me with those defiant blue eyes of his. “Yes,” he says steadily, not a hint of submission in his voice.

I grin at him. “What did you do to earn it? You got to drink water for the leash, but I don’t think you’ve done anything special enough to warrant even lukewarm water.”

“I haven’t punched you,” Misha answers, deadpan. “That’s gotta count for something.”

“You haven’t been able to punch me,” I correct him, smirking. “Who knows what you would do if I unbound you for a moment or two?”

I turn the water on and grab the showerhead, unhooking it from the wall. Before the water warms up, I turn the spray onto him, letting the cold water mostly hit his cock.

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