By the time they reached the hotel, it was midnight. Stefan was cold, shaking apart from the cuff on his thigh and the clamps on his t**s, and yet grinding back on the hand in his pocket as they travelled to the third floor in the slowest lift he’d ever seen.
“I’d relax if I were you,” his master said casually as they were spat out onto the third floor. “I told you, it’s going to be a long night.”
Relax? He had to be kidding. Everything between Stefan’s scalp and the soles of his feet was vibrating with tension. He needed to be f****d. And he needed it now.
“I—I want you, Sir.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“It’s just as well,” Daz said as he unlocked the room and shoved Stefan inside. He ignored Stefan as he locked it behind them, and opened the wardrobe. Inside was a small safe, and Stefan
