In his ear, Master murmurs, “Latex.” The word sounds like a promise in his voice. Before Stefan can reply, Master continues, “This is what I want. You’ll be home by what, six?”
“Yes,” Stefan says. His voice cracks and he clears his throat to try again. “Six, yes, I’ll be there.”
“Leave your door unlocked,” Master commands, “and put on something—you have a full body suit, right?”
Stefan has two, both black latex. One has zippers strategically placed for easy access, which he has yet to put to use. The other has seen more wear—he’s modified it himself, adding a rubber c**k sheath that juts from the front like a handle and a tiny ball sewn into the butt to press between his buttocks. That’s his solo suit, the one he puts on when it’s just him and his hand, and unfortunately that’s all too
