"Why are you here?" Sinn asked. Letting Will remove his grip, then easing up from beneath Sinn.
He stood and brushed himself off. He helped Sinn to his feet. He stroked a hand down the side of his face, brushed back a strand of his wet hair. “First, does it really matter how we got here? How many times did I ask you if you wanted this? How many times did you tell me that you did? You never once asked me my last name, did you? You don't want to know. You just want me to be Will. Isn't that enough?" He framed Sinn's face with his hands and Sinn felt all the anger drain out of him. He closed his eyes and opened to Will's touch.
Will petted and stroked. Blood raced through Sinn, engorging him. Nerve endings fired beneath Will's quiet, assertive manner. He felt Will's lips against his own. Seducing him, molding him, refashioning him.
"Open your eyes, Sinn, and look at me."
Sinn did as Will asked.
"That's better. Now, do you want to play?"
"But you're–"
Will’s grip on his face firmed. "I'm Will. That's it. Just Will. And for tonight," he wound his hand into the leather thong. "Tonight you belong to me. And I'll show you what that means." He kissed Sinn again, making Sinn's heart hammer. Then Will stepped back.
"And now it's time to warm you up and get you ready." He gripped the tail of the tether encircling Sinn’s neck. He reached for the crop, then drew the tip of the crop down along the side of Sinn's face. "Are you ready?"
Sinn nodded, mesmerized by the voice and the look in the younger man's eyes.
"Say it. Give me the words," Will commanded.
"Yes." Looking into Will’s eyes there simply was no other answer he could give.
“Yes, what?” he pressed Sinn.
“Yes...Will,” Sinn responded grudgingly.
"Why? Why will you give yourself to me?"
How could Sinn answer that? Did he know why? Of course he did. Because this man knew him like no one else. He'd peeled away the layers. And Sinn wanted more. He wanted to be whole again. He wanted to feel again. Like he had been when he had first left Montana. And he knew the only way that was going to happen was to submit to this man, and only this man. And in doing so, it was as though he would travel full circle and be whole once more, the parts of himself finally stitched together.
"I need you more than I've needed anyone in my entire life. And you know me like no one else, living, ever will. Make me feel, Will, make me live again."
And Sinn thought he saw something like triumph blaze in Will's eyes. Just before the black mask settled over Sinn’s eyes, blotting out everything. and he was once again utterly under this man's control.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Will had meant to bind Sinn to the horse, to move directly into the scene and take him through his paces. But that wasn't what this was all about. He recalled so many things about the young David Garner–the wild 18-year-old who had been his older brother's best friend. From the way Bobby had told it, they'd been friends from the first day that Davy and his mother had moved to town. Packing up and leaving Billings, she'd moved in with the owner of the single restaurant in Reverie, a small, blink-and-you-miss-it town a stretch of distance from Miles City, dragging Davy with her. Davy spun some great yarns about the way his life had been before landing in the dusty ghost town of Reverie, and all he talked about was getting out as soon as he turned eighteen, although he hadn’t actually been able to save enough money to leave until he was twenty-one. Usually the vow was more forceful after a beating from Charlie leaving him with a black-and-blue backside and shoulders. Oh, yes, Davy Garner was the wildest most exotic thing Reverie had ever seen. At least in Bobby's estimation. And he had Bobby dreaming of a way out of Reverie as well. At least until he’d knocked up his girlfriend, Mary Anne, and all those dreams of becoming a big rock star got busted to hell.
Will led Sinn over to the black-paneled wall. Lifting one arm he affixed it to the ring, and then did the same with the other. Then he bound his legs to the lower insets. He stepped to the side and adjusted the height using a hidden panel to electronically reposition the restraints along the panel groove tracking, bringing Sinn up almost to his tiptoes, drawing him taut, every muscle, every rib defined. Then he adjusted the leg restraints, widening them so that it was necessary for Sinn to rely on the restraints to keep him upright, making him appear more like an effigy affixed to the wall.
He went back to Sinn and unwound the remaining leather thong from Sinn's arm. Yes, it would do.
"What are you doing?" Sinn asked, a hint of concern flavoring his words.
"You'll soon find out." Will said as he walked across to the cupboard and pulled down a bottle of oil. He coated the thong. His gloves wet and shiny from the oil, coated well, he went back to Sinn. He reached out for Sinn's cock and began to stroke him. "You seem to have a habit of deflating on me. I'm going to fix that. At least for a time." He brought Sinn to semi-erection and then he proceeded to lace the thong in an intricate braided pattern around Sinn's rigid cock, curling it lightly around his balls and then tying it beneath. He stood back to admire his handiwork. He pressed his hand to Sinn’s inner thigh, stroked upward, cupping his bound balls, then fingering his prick. “There you go,” he said.
Yes, very pretty. Sinn's cock latticed and pointing with rigid rod-like force out from Sinn's body. A good eight-and-a-half inches, burning with the blush of blood-infused rich redness. Fat and bursting against the rolled leather thong. Will stroked across the pronounced slit with his gloved index finger. A dewy drop of liquid coated his finger. Sinn groaned. “No more limp dick,” he murmured. “Not tonight.”
"You're killing me," Sinn said. He wiggled against the tight bindings, his hands fisted. His cock bobbed beautifully. He needed more, Will decided. Yes, more. Back to the cupboard he pulled open a drawer and studied the contents inside. He found the ball bearings. Three. Two with clamps for his nipples, one with a slender short silver slip-chain for another part of his anatomy.
First Will affixed the slip chain just beneath the ridge of Sinn’s cockhead. Sinn cried out and his stiff erection was pulled downward. He shuddered. Will gave him a moment to get used to the weight. The small weighted ball swung back and forth, the silver chain glinted, his cock burned an even deeper shade of magenta. Sinn gritted his teeth.
Will placed his oily gloved hand against Sinn's chest, stroked in swirling motions over his torso, down toward his abdomen, sifted through the golden hair at his groin and back up to his chest lightly dusted in fine blond hair. He tweaked a nipple drawing it hard and tight, drew it out and then attached the first clamp.
"Fuck!" Sinn shivered. Will waited, letting the pain abate to a dull throb. He stroked across the pinched nipple causing Sinn to shudder at the exquisite blend of pain and pleasure.
"Do you want me to stop?" Will asked. "Is it too much?"
"I want to come," Sinn said, but not quite the tone Will was waiting to hear. He turned to Sinn's other nipple and prepared him in the same way, then waited for the driving pain to abate. He stepped away.
"You can't come yet. We've hardly begun. And now, as much as you might want to disobey me and climax, you can't. Not until I'm ready for you to come. But you will stay nice and hard for me."
Will went back to the cabinet and picked up a vial of sensitizing oil. He went back to Sinn. Pouring some of the oil into his palm he then began to stroke over Sinn’s body. Shoulders, arms, chest, hips, legs. Every inch of him was coated in the musky scented oil. He reached around and stroked across Sinn's ass, his fingers settled in the crease. He found his small asshole. Just a taste, a light penetration giving them both an edge to the moment when Will would finally possess him there. He dipped the oiled tip of his middle finger past the tight ring of muscle. He felt Sinn draw breath. A tight hole and he had to push past the unyielding ring of muscle. Ah, there, and he slipped inside, just to the crease of the first joint of his finger. He wiggled.
"You're killing me," Sinn groaned. "I can't stand much more without coming."
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Will pulled his finger out, so he just brushed Sinn's opening, then pressed in again. He repeated the act over and over again, until Sinn was wiggling against the bonds, and then finally pushing back with his hips, reaching for that finger, trying to make Will penetrate him more thoroughly. But it was Will who had the control. He pressed his finger to that first joint and left it there, unmoving. Sinn finally stopped his contortions. His head dropped forward, acquiescing to Will's control.
"Bobby never knew you were gay, did he?”
Sinn's head shot up, he turned toward Will's voice, but with the mask he couldn't see him. All he could do was listen and feel. The weights, the thong, the tit clamps, reminding him very keenly of who was in charge. Will waited for his answer.
* * *
Sinn's mind was in chaos. There were so many sensations going on inside him right now, he couldn't tell if he was up or down. It was like some sort of high without the drugs.
"Ahhh," he rolled his head back and forth. Memories of Reverie, of Bobby, of that asshole Charlie, of feeling like every day he had to hide, had to control every thought, every action, every glance. Now, here, in this room he felt like the layers of his skin were peeled wide open. Every inch of him exposed to Will. A man who should have been a stranger, but wasn't.
"Answer me. He didn't know did he?" Will's warm breath feathered across Sinn's cheek. Stretched taut, weighed down, the echo of delicious pain throbbing through him, Sinn had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He was exposed in a way he had never allowed himself to be before. And at some level he knew this was exactly what he needed–what he wanted. Nowhere to hide and Will had the ability to exact every last secret from him if he so chose.
He rounded on Will, even though he couldn't see him. "And did he know you were a fag, too? His little brother–Billy?"
"Hardly. I was thirteen when you left. I was fifteen when he died. I barely knew it myself. I was relieved when you left. Thirteen's a hard age for a kid–especially when the only person he fantasizes about sexually happened to be a guy."
Sinn's emotions were conflicted by that revelation. To be honest before he left Reverie he'd barely noticed Bobby's younger brother, except that he was a nuisance hanging in the shadows watching them all the time.
"I barely remember you," he admitted.
"I didn't figure you would. I counted on it."
"So you stalked me. What is it you want? Revenge for Bobby dying? Or some sick way of trying to resurrect your brother?" He taunted Will and he knew it. Was he looking for a beating? He used to do that with Charlie just to get the whipping over with. It usually worked. Or was this just a way to make Sinn pay for Bobby dying in that car wreck?
"Bobby's accident was an accident. Bobby was happy with Mary Anne. Well, as happy as he could be considering they had to get married and his best friend had left town. He was never hungry like you to get out of Montana. He had ties and he doted on his son."
"What happened to Mary Anne and the–the baby?"
"They're with my folks. My mom loves Davy."
Sinn stilled. "What did you say?"
"Bobby's idea. They called him David."
"Shit." Sinn's head dropped back. He felt something choking him, some emotion he'd never let grab him. "Shit!"
Will's finger wiggled in his ass, snapping him back to the present.
"I had to leave. I'd have died there, and it wouldn't have been an accident."
Will’s finger stilled inside him. "I know. Bobby knew it too. He knew you had to go; he had to stay. He couldn't cut his roots."
"What do you want from me?"
"You didn't answer my question. Did Bobby know about you?"
"No one knew. They just all figured I was so into the music I didn't have time for girls." And for Sinn there was a lot of truth to that. He was focused solely on getting out of Reverie and pursuing his career. It had taken several years working as a bus boy in a restaurant in LA and spending all his spare time writing songs and trying to break down some of the right doors before he’d been “discovered” by the record producer. He’d been so ripe for it when the guy had propositioned him. Too hungry.
"Did you want to fuck Bobby? I thought maybe that's why you really left. You were in love with him, but you knew he wasn't in love with you. Not in that way."
Sinn whipped around, dislodging Will's finger, making him feel suddenly as though a part of him was missing. Having Will inside him, now he was empty. "I never thought of fucking Bobby. It wasn't like that between us. I loved him like a brother. I'd have done anything for Bobby." Then in a lower tone. "He was my brother in every way that mattered."
Will stroked a hand over Sinn's ass, soothing him, centering him. Sinn exhaled on a long shuddering breath. Again, he felt the weights bearing down on him, balancing him somehow.
"What is it you want...Billy?"
The hand stopped stroking. "I'm not Billy any more than you are Davy. Isn't that right? Do you really think I'm that little boy that was so easy for you to forget?"
Sinn considered that shadowy image of a child–no, an adolescent at that gawky age of in-between. No, Sinn hadn't thought twice about him once he shook the dirt of Montana off his boots and arrived in L.A. But the man standing next to him would never be so politely dismissed. Whatever the rest of the night brought, Sin had a feeling he would never forget Will, with the amazing hands and seductive voice.
"You're not thirteen anymore, are you?"
"No. Nor are you twenty-one thinking all you had to do was prove you could sing and your career would be made."
"No. That's true. I'm definitely not that kid anymore."
Will gripped his weighted cock and Sinn thought his heart would stop with the feel of that hand on his sensitized, painfully engorged prick. "Do something with it rather than fucking touch it. You're killing me."
"Are you sure you're ready for what comes next? Do you want me, Sinn? Do you really want me to take what I've wanted for so long?"
"You've fixated on me."
"Maybe. Or maybe I know how to set a goal and go after exactly what I want."
"You want me."
Will's fingers played lightly over Sinn's stretched out cock. He reached beneath to tease his balls.
"Ahhh!" Sinn didn't think he could stand much more of this foreplay. He was feeling–he was not numb, he was dying–he was alive in a way he'd never been before.
"Are you ready for me? You haven't been fucked in a long time have you? I'm a man who knows what he wants and willing do what it takes to achieve that goal. Whatever happens, I'm going to make sure you don't forget me. Not that boy in Reverie–he's gone. But you will remember me."
"Do what you want."
"But do you want it, too? Do you need it–would you beg for it?"
Oh yeah, he'd beg. He wanted all of it. How that boy in Reverie had grown up to be a man with the ability to exquisitely torture him, he had no idea. But then he was no dreamy musician anymore either. Sinn Midnite and Will were totally different creatures, a lifetime removed from a dusty Montana ghost town. And whoever they were now, Sinn wanted Will like he'd never wanted anyone–anything in his life. Maybe even more than his music. And that was saying something.
"Please," He found himself begging. "Fuck me. Beat me. Do whatever you want to me. Own me." He licked his lips. "Make me your bitch," he whispered. He was defeated by his own yearnings, his need to be free of the shackles of his memory holding him back. He was never more certain that Will was the only man to help him break free to live again.
"Then I'll show you what it is to be mine, my darling. My tastes have been finely honed, not distorted like yours. Clean and bright and rich. And you'll soon learn exactly what I mean."
Sinn already knew. He already understood. And he was ready to accept whatever demand Will made upon him. Suddenly, everything was different. And if nothing else, he had to find out if he could go the distance. He had to have this man's cock inside him. And he would do whatever it took to make that happen.<
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And then Will removed the tit clamps. As blood surged back into Sinn’s chest he felt like his body was on fire. He fought against the restraints. Will rubbed his chest, massaged his nipples, until finally Sinn could breathe again. Then Will removed the weight on his cock, but he didn’t unlace his engorged prick. All Sinn could do at this point was feel. He was only half aware when Will released his arms from the restraints, too fully immersed in sensation to even think about what Will might have planned next.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Will led Sinn over to the horse. He bent him forward. Ass out. He re-situated his legs to a wider stance. He stepped in front of the horse. He took one of Sinn’s arms and fastened his hands around the silver metal grip situated on one of the legs of the horse. Then he did the same with his other arm.
"Hold the grips. Keep holding them. I'm not going to use the cuffs. I'm trusting you to do exactly as you're told. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I get it," Sinn said. Will saw him tighten his grip around the metal handgrips.
"Don't move. If you want me to stop, just say the word, "Boomer."
"Boomer?" Sinn's head shot up and he turned in the direction of Will's voice.
"You remember Boomer, right?"
"I haven't thought of that mangy old yellow tom for...a long time."
"He took to you like nobody else," Will said.
"I never could figure out why," Sinn responded.
"Maybe he saw a kindred spirit."
"I sure wasn't no tom prowling around the female kitties the way he liked to do."
"Maybe not, but there was no taming him, either. He went his own way, every last time." Will picked up the trail of the thong tied around Sinn's neck. "Nobody was going to cage that old boy."
"What happened to him?"
"I saw he got fed. Stayed around for a few years after that. One day he just up and disappeared. Kind of like you."
"I didn't just up and disappear," Sinn said. "Bobby knew where I was going."
Will released the end of the thong. "You didn't find what you were looking for in L.A. though, did you?"
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