Page 102 of B is for Beg

“That’s not true, Daddy.” Blake walks over to my wardrobe and puts his hand on the handle. “May I?”

I nod, watching as he looks through the shirts, trousers, chinos, and jeans that are all hanging up neatly.

“You’re very organised, Daddy,” he says. “Archie would love you. Try this.” He turns and hands me a dark red shirt that I haven’t worn in at least a couple of years.

“That’s too small, baby boy.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Can I see it on?”

“All right.”

I take my shirt off and put the red one on. It’s close fitting, hugging every inch of my body and too big waist.

“That’s better,” Blake says.

“It’s too small.”

“It’s not.” He runs his fingers over the shoulder seams. “These are sitting perfectly on your shoulder bones. On the other shirt, they were here,” he puts the edge of his hands on the outer curve of my shoulders. “Which is way too big.” He tugs the front of the shirt away from my chest. “You’ve got a good five centimetres of room in the chest.” He lets the fabric go. “The shirt isn’t pulling at all. There are no gaps,” he adds with a smile as he trails his hand down the buttons. Would you raise your arms, please?”

I do as he’s asked, adoring his polite request.

“Does it feel like it’s pulling over your shoulders?”

“No,” I admit.

“It doesn’t look like it is. Rotate your arms, please?”

I comply. He’s right. The shirt doesn’t tug or feel tight at all.

“See? It fits perfectly.”

I glance at my reflection again. “Just because it feels good doesn’t mean it looks good.”

“You look amazing, Daddy.” Blake runs his hands down my chest and pecks me on the lips. “I’d let you fuck me looking like that.”

I laugh. “You’d let me fuck you, no matter what I was wearing.”

He bobs his head from side to side. “I dunno… that oversized shirt wasnota sexy look on you. I’d pass.”

“Really?”

He wrinkles his nose adorably. “I’dtryto pass.” He turns away and goes through my wardrobe again.

Eventually, he gives me a pair of white trousers, which I bought on a whim because a personal shopper in the store said they looked great, but then never had the courage to wear. I take my baggy black trousers off and pull them on. The fit is snug around my thighs and arse, but they do up around my waist without a struggle.

Blake stands back to admire me, a smile tugging at his lips. “Much better, Daddy.”

“They’re too snug.”

“Try sitting down?”

I sit on the bed.

“Do they feel tight?”

“Well, no,” I concede.

“Then they’re not too snug.”