Reinhart steps out of the shower, dries his muscular body, then pads over to the wardrobe. As he opens the door the smell of leather is overwhelming. He pauses for a moment, gazing at the jacket and breeches on the hanger. He takes them out.
Naked, sitting on the end of the bed, he slowly pulls on the leather breeches. He closes the zips, which make them skin-tight around his calves. Then the boots. He inspects them – tall, black leather Dehner dress boots, polished immaculately to a mirror shine. He nods in satisfaction and pulls them up over his tight, shiny calves, working his feet carefully into them. When they’re up he puts on the shirt, luxuriating in the feel of the soft black leather against his skin, then stands up and fastens the breeches. The belt is buckled, the leather tie carefully done in a Windsor knot. Then the heavy leather jacket. He zips it up to his sternum, and buckles the studded belt. His fingers adjust the handcuffs on his hip.
With a critical eye, Reinhart observes his reflection in the wall mirror. He brushes a grain of dust from a cuff, adjusts the lay of his tie, and nods approvingly – he knows he looks stunning in shiny black leather, and the anticipation of the effect his appearance is going to have gives him pleasure. Everything is good.
Satisfied that he looks correct and that everything is exactly as it should be, he closes the wardrobe, then pulls on a pair of skintight, unlined leather gloves. He opens the apartment door, and strides purposefully along the short corridor to the playroom, his boots clunking on the wooden floor.
In the centre of the black-walled room a naked guy is standing by a padded restraint table. Reinhart walks over slowly and stands facing him. The guy's eyes travel slowly down the black leather shirt, jacket and breeches. His cock is hardening rapidly between his bare thighs at the sight.
After a few moments, Reinhart kneels, his eyes downcast respectfully.
“Suck.”
“Yes Sir!” Reinhart takes his Master’s naked cock into his mouth and sucks.