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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna

Valentines Day Candy

This did not seem like a usual delivery. To Devlin this almost felt like a strip-o-gram, far outside any of the weird he’d done before. Granted he didn't really mind showing off his body a little: soccer kept him lean. Since his Valentines Day deliveries were always to middle-aged, sex-starved women he knew a little skin would ensure a big tip.

Devlin worked for a local confectionery shop as a delivery boy. It was not a full-time position but it was something he could do most days after school. The shop was a mom-and-pop affair called Sweet Salvation, originally run by a nice older couple who had since given up control of the day-to-day affairs to their son Bowen two months ago.

Devlin’s ass squeaked in the red pvc shorts as he accelerated from a dead stop at a stop sign. Really they weren't shorts, more an amalgamation of straps and buckles with a well placed cod piece. His top was similarly revealing, equating to a bolero that left his midriff completely exposed. And then there were the stockings and full length gloves - lacy and white. Makeup and a bow.

What the hell.

At first Devlin refused. He knew Sweet Salvation was doing poorly, but this was way out of line. When Bowen approached him with the request, Devlin almost quit on the spot. Only with promises of a big tip and a bonus did the youth finally relent.

“I really need you to do this, Dev. You are the only one.” Bowen practically pleaded.

Box of chocolates, roses, and balloons in hand, Devlin left the shop. Pondering hard about the strange smirk that crossed Bowen’s face. The thought was soon quashed by the massive wedgy that his shorts gave him.

And so, here he was, pulling up the drive of 1025 Ash Street, dressed like a tart, wondering long and hard about his choice of after-school employment.

A long awkward pause followed the ringing of the doorbell. Devlin was certain the neighbors were all out at their windows now, staring at him, wondering who the slutty fagboi was and just how much he was getting paid to degrade himself like this.

Devlin glanced own at the box of chocolates and noticed that attached note for the first time. The envelope simply read “Master.” The boy arched an eyebrow. Oh really? Kinky.

Finally the door opened. Devlin swallowed hard and felt his face redden. It was no middle-aged housewife that greeted him, but a big burly biker. The man’s shoulders were twice as wide as Devlin’s. He wore a black tank top that clung to his broad upper body. Two-days worth of grizzled beard covered his lower face and his brow was all dark eyebrows brooding over two intensely blue eyes. In a word - hot.

“Don’t you look sweet.”

“Ummm.” At a loss for words, Devlin glanced down at the deliverables for guidance. “I … have a delivery for Master?”

The hulk eyed Devlin, a smile spreading across his masculine features. “You’re at the right place. Bring it in.”

“I’m not supposed to go insi-”

“Bring. It. In.”

The stern voice instantly melted Devlin’s resolve and he practically jumped across the threshold, into the house, his ass squeaking in his humiliating shorts.

He shook when he heard the door close behind him. The entry way was somberly decorated. Stark but still tasteful. 

“Put it on the table. What do I owe you?”

Devlin could not put down the goodies fast enough. “Umm. Nothing. Its a present, someone decided to treat you. I guess.” Awkward.

“And you’re the whipping cream on top of the treat.” It wasn’t a question. Devlin suddenly felt very vulnerable, realizing now that the large man stood between himself and the door.

“I’ll just be going now…” It was like all the movies, Devlin thought. He knew if he tried to approach the door or squeeze past the man he’d find himself being edged back into the room by menacing footsteps.

“No. You won’t.”

“I’m … expected … somewhere.” Smooth. Devlin’s heart raced and his face flushed.

“Open the box.”

Of course he had a choice not to, but that voice. That demeanor. Devlin wanted to obey. Quickly he pulled off the ribbon from the box of chocolates and opened it, revealing an assortment of hand made sweets.

When he glanced back, the man was looming over him, inches away. Devlin could feel the heat of his body, smell the sweat. He felt small. Helpless. Like an animal.

“Looks tasty.” Devlin knew he said it that way to remain ambigious - was he talking about the boy or the candy.

“Th…they were made this morning…” The boy’s voice felt tiny and weak. He felt a stiring in his shorts. If he weren’t so terrified this would be intensely erotic.

“Mhmm.” The man grunted. A beefy hand plucked one of the chocolates from the box. It was so small between his fingers. Slowly he raised it up to Devlin’s lips and pressed it in. The boy could only comply and open his mouth, accepting the sweet into his mouth, shocked to find the man’s finger following, toying with his lips.

Now Devlin really felt like a slut. What was he doing? Who was this man that had such instant power over him?

“I told Bowen I wanted something sweet for Valentines. It looks like he delivered. I’ll enjoy this treat…”

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