Chapter 4 - At his feet

Chapter 4

At his feet

Sitting, on my knees, breathing rapidly, I waited for Andrés' next move with an excitement that I couldn't believe even myself. I wondered what that beast of a man was capable of. Without getting up from his chair, he picked up a Cuban cigar from a drawer in his desk, taking his time, showing me that he was the one who controlled the pace, the punishments, the humiliations, everything. He lit it and took a few quick puffs. The smoke quickly filled the room, making me a bit dizzy and cough.

Andrés brought the cigar to his mouth with calmness, without haste, savoring the moment and his cigar. As he flexed his arm to do so, I could admire the musculature of his arm, a powerful and formidable bicep, sculpted with precision, where the muscles were marked with force under the skin, tense and defined. A thick vein ran across the surface, highlighting even more the robustness of his forearm, where the tendons were drawn with clarity, evidencing years of work and dedication. Definitely, Andrés had to have been, or was, an athlete. His musculature didn't seem to be from lifting weights or the gym. It had to be from years of sports. That made me admire him even more.

"What's wrong, faggot, does the smoke bother you?" he said, pulling me out of my thoughts abruptly, and then blew all the smoke from his cigar into my face, making my eyes redden and tear up. I could see in his facial expression that he was plotting what he would do to me next.

"It's been years since you could, but it's been a long time since smoking has been prohibited in offices," he said, looking nostalgically at the ash that had accumulated on the tip of his cigar. "Well, you should already know that, just like you should know that there are no ashtrays in offices anymore," he said with a mischievous smile that drove me crazy, while taking a few more deep puffs on his cigar, looking at me out of the corner of his eye and continuing to smile, plotting something that would surely give him great pleasure.

"I don't like the floor to fill with ash, we'll have to find an ashtray," he added. "Now open your mouth," he ordered, looking at the ash on his cigar that was about to fall to the floor. I couldn't do anything else but obey him, I was surrendered at his feet and completely at his mercy. I opened my mouth and closed my eyes, and he spat a mixture of saliva and water that helped me swallow the remains of the ash that had become a disgusting paste in my mouth. "You see, I'm not that bad, I don't want you to have a hard time, poor thing," he said with irony. My cock was getting hard again, like a hammer. That mixture of tenderness, irony, mockery, and cynicism turned me on incredibly.

After a while, Andrés finished his cigar, and I swallowed all the ash that had resulted from the process. Andrés got up and left the office without saying anything, leaving me tied up. Where had he gone? Wasn't he afraid that ...