I just joined Helena Stone’s flash fiction Facebook Group because I desperately needed to write a short piece for this photo:
“Jason, you need to scrub it in.”
I thought I was scrubbing it in.
“I am scrubbing it. You want harder?”
I huffed fake annoyance and dug my fingers deep into his scalp, eliciting a deep groan. Okay then.
“Thank you, Sir,” I said, with only a bit of sarcasm.
“Watch it. Getting you to wash my hair is a pretty mild consequence for what you did earlier.”
My ears perked up, as did my cock. I mean, I’d thought it a little too mild actually. And kind of boring. Plus my fingers were getting tired.
“Too mild?” I asked, hinting.
He groaned under the flex of my fingers. “What do you think?”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m not a fan of mild. As you know.” I was a fan of intense. Maybe even painful. Definitely not mild.
“Well, then. Why don’t we finish up here. Rinse me.”
The smile spread over my face before I had grabbed the hand held shower, washing the suds from his black hair and wondering what he would choose; a spanking, maybe. I could definitely go for a spanking. I’d been a very naughty boy.