The Girlfriend

HOLIDAY SPECIAL: Thanksgiving

This chapter doesn't take place on the holiday, but on Jon's 47th birthday about a week before, mainly because my thanksgiving was last month and it was weird to have a sex-themed chapter based around a holiday where people are supposed to stuff themselves. It's a little unsexy. But anyway, I hope this holds you over until the next special!

Jon

"No!" Patrick yelped. "Fuck!"

I smirked to myself and kept my hand clamped on the back of his neck while I slowly hovered the blue candle over his back. Patrick's hands were secured above him to the headboard and his legs to each of the posts on the footboard. He wanted to wax play with Lydia, and I wasn't about to let him go doing something that he hadn't had done to himself – it was a rule.

"You need to get your hair cut," I remarked casually. "I shouldn't need to pull it back into a ponytail for this. Fucking hippie."

"Fuck off," he snapped. "It's not even that long."

It was. Hell, it was past his shoulders now. And since I didn't want the wax to splash into his hair and either catch fire or get permanently stuck there, I had to find one of the millions of lost hair ties that Lydia left around so he could put his hair up.

I shook my head and spilled more wax down his lower back, listening to him groan and bury his face in the sheets. He was being pretty good today, barely talking back to me at all. He deserved a treat for that. I reached in my pocket for the remote control to the small vibrator I had strapped to the underside of his cock and turned it onto the pulse setting. Patrick jerked against his bindings and I decided to give him an extra push by dripping fresh wax directly across his ass, carefully trailing from one cheek to the other in a smooth arch over his lower back.

His back heaved and I listened gleefully to the string of obscenities that he cried into the sheets. Watching his lean, corded muscle shift and flex made my groin tighten and my breathing slow. Patrick's back looked like a work of art; the layers of blue wax varied from semi-opaque baby blue up to a darker cobalt in the places where I went over it again and again.

I was mesmerized by the colours and the way he moved but quickly came back to reality when he groaned and started to grind his hips against the mattress. I immediately turned off the vibrator and tossed the controller up to the head of the bed, just out of his reach but where he could still see it.

"Stop humping the bed like a horny teenager, we've barely even started." Honestly, had he learned anything from my teachings? I wasn't one to end a session too quickly and I'd hoped to instill the same thing in him.

"I don't want to go for an hour," he whined. "I want to fucking come now. My balls can't hold off that long."

Jesus Christ, he sounded like Lydia when he got like this. It wasn't a submission thing, it was an immaturity quirk, but the difference was that Lydia was a twenty-three-year-old that had faced a lot of trauma and purposely played the role of a brat, while Patrick was a thirty-seven-year-old man who had never been told "no" a day in his life.

"Stop whining or I'll leave you here to jerk off alone," I warned him. "Honestly. I didn't even want one brat and I somehow ended up with two."

"I'm not your submissive!"

"Am I misreading this situation, or do I not have you tied face down with a cock ring to keep you from coming too soon and a vibrator to keep you on edge? Because you sure as shit look pretty submissive right now." He was a switch, he didn't have to try and play the macho man right now. God knew I would always be better at that role anyway.