Lucky

He says  
   
“Lucky, the walls are sound proof eh…”  
   
and a nervous & subtle shy laughter escapes my lips as he proceeds to ask me of ways I can make him scream as if I’m a connoisseur of making grown arse men cry like a little bitch, and then, he proceeds to ask me to whip his bare arse cheeks and I don’t spare him by being gentle.    
   
He feels the process is cathartic, and I ask no questions.    
   
Noting, the red welts on his fine porcelain arse cheeks will be felt as he navigates his way to work in the morning, slightly irritated by the friction of the linen material of his work trousers.  
   
Clearly, his masochistic tendencies leave him with a raging hard on, not to mention blue balls, as I make him cycle up & down, edging for hours on end, whilst calling him every name under the sun.    
 
He likes it better that way.  
   
Profanity, spoken in a certain hushed tone against his ear, makes his eyes roll whilst his subtle & unexpected moans fascinate me.

I just don’t know whether to laugh or cry.    
   
It’s all fun & games until I see him crying, it makes me feel bad, albeit he reassures me to keep pushing his boundaries as he explores his own at the same time.