The vampire watched impassively as each new inch of skin was bared to him, his eyes never moving from the pale, lithe body before him. When Samandriel stood completely naked before him, he stepped forwards slowly and ran his hands down over the bare shoulders and arms, circling the slim waist before continuing slowly downwards to cup the smoothly rounded buttocks.
He drew the slave to him, naked skin pressed against the smooth fabric of his black suit. There was nothing tender in his touch, only a knowing covetousness.
"You are perfection," he said softly, holding the slave tightly against him, lips close to the boy's own. Carrick's cock was already stirring, and he was sure Samandriel would be able to feel it through his clothes.
Eventually Carrick stepped back a couple of paces and unfastened the collar. He reached out and picked up a thickly braided leather riding crop that had been lying atop the back of one of the room's sofas. Instead of a small loop at the tip, it had twin flaps of hard, heavy leather.
His fingertips absently stroked the smooth surface of the leather collar as he looked Samandriel in the eyes, his own gaze penetrating.