Whatever It Takes

by Barbara Elsborg

  In every room, Zain found something amusing to do. Sprawling on a bed pretending to lick the tube of lube, posing in the shower with his arse on display, reclining on the piano, lying on the stairs with his hand down his unzipped jeans. After Roman had finished taking shots of the kitchen, he found Zain naked in the lift.

  Roman groaned. “I ought to walk around with a supply of lube and condoms in my pocket.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  More posing in the rooms in the basement, on the gym equipment, pretending to drink a bottle of Cristal champagne and nearly dropping it when Roman told him how much it cost, standing next to the pool until the only place Roman hadn’t photographed was that room. Mini dungeon. Playroom. He wondered what Arkady would want to call it.

  While he waited to see what Zain would do, he sent the photos in batches to Arkady, careful not to send any including Zain. Really careful.

  Zain made no effort to go into the room. Roman edged past him and snapped the St Andrew’s Cross, the swing, the bed and the spanking bench. The one room he wished Zain had posed in and he’d chosen not to.

  “All done?” Zain asked from by the door.

  “Yep.”

  Zain bolted for the stairs. “Let’s go and pack up the clothes.”

  Roman tried to hold back his disappointment. Because he had an occasional kink didn’t mean Zain had to embrace it.

  By the time Roman had grabbed a roll of black bin liners and made it up to the master bedroom, Zain was back in his jeans and pulling clothes from the closet.

  “This is designer gear,” Zain said. “Most of it looks hardly worn. I don’t get why they’d just leave it.”

  “Probably last year’s collection.”

  Zain laughed. “Wow. Did you check to see if they really had moved to Spain?”

  “I did. They have. They’re still breathing.”

  Zain started to fill a bag. “What are you going to do with all this?”

  “Take it to a charity shop.”

  “Can I have something if it fits me?”

  “Why not? I’m taking this Versace tie.” He rolled it up and pushed it into his pocket.

  Zain picked up a long dress. “What do you think?”

  Roman smiled. “Purple’s not your colour.”

  They filled five bags with women’s clothes, shoes and handbags before they started on the menswear. Everything was far too big for Zain though that didn’t stop him trying stuff on.

  “Do you think it’s worth me trying to put on weight?” When he let go of the waist of the trousers, they fell to his ankles. “This is an Armani suit!”

  “You’re perfect as you are.”

  Zain sidled up behind him. “You like my big arse?”

  “You don’t have a big arse.”

  “You think it’s scrawny?”

  Roman laughed. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Ooh. I like this. The buttons are the wrong side but it doesn’t matter, does it?” Zain slipped his arms into a dark blue, thigh length woollen coat and swivelled in front of the mirror.

  It might have been a woman’s but Zain looked good in it. “Keep it. There are a couple of ski hats there. We’ll take those too.”

  They filled two bags with men’s clothes and Roman thought they’d cleared everything but as Zain fumbled at the back of the walk-in closet, a door suddenly swung open.

  “What did I do?” Zain gasped. “I must have magic fingers. Wow. Looks like you’re not the only one with a hidey hole. What do you think is through there?”

  “A snowy wood with a lamppost and a friendly faun?”

  Zain spun around and stared at him. “What?”

  “You’ve not read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?”

  “No.”

  “Is there a light switch?”

  Zain moved behind him. “You look. I’m not keen on lions or witches.”

  Roman felt inside the panel, flicked the light on, then jumped back and gave a dramatic gasp. Zain shrieked and Roman laughed.

  Zain growled something in Arabic.

  Roman pushed the panel door fully open and exhaled. There was a rack of clothing that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a fetish event. Leather hoods, pony play equipment, PVC gimp suits—his and hers in pink and black though the pink one was larger, leather trousers, ball gags, handcuffs, cock rings, a cock cage, a set of sounds… Fuck.

  “Were these people just too lazy to dump this before they left?” Zain stared at the sets of handcuffs hanging from hooks. “Don’t they care that people will know what they’ve been up to?”

  “The owners will hide their identity using trusts or nominees to sell and buy.” But Roman was surprised they’d left all this.

  “Oh, ohhh!”

  Roman turned. “What?”

  “I googled some of the words the maid had scrawled. I think she’d left a message. One of the phrases was dirty closet. Maybe she was supposed to throw the stuff out but didn’t.” Zain sucked in a breath. “Is she still alive?”

  Shit. That hadn’t occurred to Roman. “I don’t know. I’ll ask Arkady.”

  “We still okay to get rid of all this? What if it’s evidence?”

  “Apart from the graffiti on her wall, we’ve seen no sign of anything bad happening here. Even if her DNA was on this equipment, it means nothing. So we’ll get rid of it.” But not a charity shop. Helen could have it.

  “Are there any rubber gloves?”

  “What do you do with those?”

  “Do you want to touch any of this? We don’t know where it’s been or rather we know exactly where it’s been.”

  “Oh right. We can wash our hands but people who are into this lifestyle are pretty good at keeping everything clean.”

  “Have you… Have you ever used things like this?”

  “Which things?”

  “The pink bodysuit?”

  Roman laughed. “That’s what you pick? Not handcuffs or blindfold? No, I’m not into pink bodysuits.”

  “That hood with ears?”

  Roman stared at him. “I have enough trouble coping with you as you are without adding pony play into the equation.”

  Zain wrapped his arms around him. “What the hell is pony play?”

  “What it sounds like. I think you’d be a naughty, frisky pony that needed the crop.”

  “We’ll never know because I’m not playing at being a horse unless…you ask really nicely but would I have to eat grass?”

  “I might give you the occasional carrot or apple,” Roman said. “And I’d brush your hair. You know how much I love touching your hair. I’d thoroughly groom you. All over.”

  “Now you’re tempting me.”

  Roman smiled. “But it’s not my kink.” The moment he’d said that, he realised it was admitting that he had a kink.

  Zain looked anywhere but him. “What about the rest?”

  Be honest. Roman looked at everything hanging on the rail. “Not the bodysuits, or the hoods. I don’t like having my breathing restricted. Leather trousers… I’d wear and I’d like to see you in leather, particularly a chest harness.” Even thinking about it made Roman flush with heat. “Ropes, yes. Blindfolds, yes.” He stopped.

  “You want to play in that room, don’t you?”

  His heart gave a loud thud and his stomach echoed it.

  “I imagine leather trousers are really tricky to get on and off particularly if you’re sweaty.” Zain lifted a handful of black straps from a hook. “Same with this. Not the sweaty bit but figuring out what goes where. But…” The breath Zain let out was shaky. “Okay.”

  “Is that an okay, I’d like to play too? Or okay, you weirdo, go play with yourself and leave me with the Lego? Or okay, let’s take the bags downstairs?”

  Zain stared right into his eyes. “Yes.”

  Roman laughed. He couldn’t help it.

  They filled another black bag. Roman tied the top in a double knot so he’d know which bag it was before he hauled it into the bedro
om.

  “The people who sort the donations at the charity shop will have an interesting time,” Zain said. “Maybe we should just chuck this. I’d hate to think we’d traumatised some old lady or given a guy a heart attack. There’d be a headline in the Metro – The Stuff People Throw Away. Charity shop staff reveal all.”

  “Speculation over why it’s been thrown away would be interesting. Did someone die wearing that zippered hood? Strangle their cock in the cage? Electrocute themselves with those electrodes?”

  Zain froze and gaped at him. “A cock in a cage? What’s that?”

  “A cock cage. You put two of them in the bag.”

  “Did I? What are they for?”

  Roman wet his suddenly dry lips. “A way of controlling orgasms. They stop the wearer coming without permission of the keyholder.”

  “There’s a key?” Zain’s eyes widened.

  “Yes. Locked to stop the wearer taking it off himself.”

  “Why? What if he panics? Needs to pee? Gets an erection?”

  “You can pee with them on. Getting an erection isn’t likely to happen. It would hurt. If you panic, that’s why you have a keyholder.”

  “Who might be the other end of the country. Out of the country. Oh God.”

  “No respectable Dom would leave a sub at risk.”

  “This is a world I know nothing about.”

  “At least you’ll know what a cock cage is if someone comes into A&E wearing one.”

  “I’ll add bolt cutters to my medical kit.” Zain winced. “Why wear one? What’s the upside?”

  “Lots of reasons. To tease, to deny someone the chance to come. They make orgasms more intense once they’re taken off. They might be used as a form of humiliation, behaviour correction, a punishment or just for the fun of doing something taboo. Transferring control of your orgasms to someone else can give mental release to the person wearing the cage.”

  Zain’s jaw had dropped but Roman kept going. “They’re a way of both Dom and sub acknowledging each other’s role. It’s saying your dick is mine. You’ll come when I decide to let you. The ones you threw in the bag were plastic. They’re made of lots of different materials. Metal, rubber. Some are quite beautiful.” Enough.

  “Okay.”

  He was relieved Zain didn’t look freaked out or disgusted. What he looked was thoughtful.

  “Let’s clear the bathroom, then we’re done,” Roman said.

  Zain groaned when he pulled open a drawer at the side of the double sink. “It’s such a waste. I ration myself to the tiniest squeeze of toothpaste and they’ve just left unopened tubes. There are ten bottles of shampoo! Look at all that makeup!”

  Roman chuckled as he pulled out a bottle holding a small amount of Clive Christian’s Imperial Majesty Perfume for Men. “This is what you told Dima I bought you. Did you know it’s one of the most expensive perfumes in the world?”

  Zain smiled. “Yes.”

  “Want to try it?”

  “Not really.”

  Roman swiped something else from the drawer and pulled Zain around so he was facing away from the mirror. “Close your eyes.”

  “What are you going to do? Make me look like a tiger?”

  “Trust me.”

  Zain closed his eyes. Roman carefully lined Zain’s eyes with a black pencil and turned him back to the mirror.

  “Open your eyes,” Roman whispered.

  Zain stared straight at him.

  “Oh God,” Roman muttered and swallowed hard as his cock shifted in his jeans.

  Zain’s eyes were beautiful without the makeup but with it he looked even more exotic. His eyes seemed bigger, the amber flecks more noticeable.

  “Can I do yours?” Zain asked.

  Roman nodded and held his breath as Zain drew the pencil around his eyes. When they both faced the mirror, Roman hardly recognised himself. Where was the tough guy who’d never kneel?

  “You look so sexy,” Zain whispered.

  “Would you go out like this?” Roman asked.

  “If I was allowed out.”

  Roman’s spirits fell. Neither of them was free to be themselves.

  Zain kissed his cheek. “You want to go downstairs?”

  Roman nodded.

  “To the basement?”

  He nodded again, hoping he wasn’t looking like one of those toys with the wobbly necks. Zain held out his hand and Roman wrapped his fingers around it. “I thought it had freaked you out.”

  “It was a lot to take in. Does that room turn you on?”

  “You turn me on. If you’re not interested in…playing, that’s fine. I mean that. I’m not deep into the BDSM lifestyle. But sometimes… It can be…what I need.”

  “Bring lube and condoms and let’s go downstairs.”

  Roman took them from next to the bed and stuck them in his pocket.

  “Can we go in the hot tub after?” Zain asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

  Yep.”

  Roman went to turn it on and turned to see Zain waiting at the door of the room, his cock semi-erect. He knew it wasn’t because Zain was behaving like a sub waiting for his Dom but because he was nervous. But he was naked. Roman’s feet appeared to have stopped working.

  “I think maybe we should talk before we go in,” Zain said.

  “Yes.”

  “Because I really know next to nothing about this.”

  “Okay.”

  “So… You need to tell me…well not everything but…” Zain took a deep breath. “We’ll start slow. What are your thoughts on global warming?”

  Roman choked out a laugh and his feet started to move. “Unless it’s going to happen in the next hour or so, I couldn’t give a fuck.”

  He took hold of Zain’s hand. “BDSM. Basically, it’s bondage and discipline—BD, dominance and submission—DS, and sadism and masochism—SM. The Dominant, the Dom—with a capital D is the master. The sub, with a small s, is the submissive. There’s a lot of kinks under the BDSM umbrella like pony play, daddy play, fisting but my tastes are simple. I’m more into dominance and submission.”

  “You want to tie me up and whip me?”

  “Would you like me to?”

  Zain gulped and Roman pulled him into his arms. “I’d like to tie you up and tease you. Listen. Your brain is going too fast. There’s a lot to tell you, to explain and we have to take this very slowly. A safe word is crucial. A word that makes whatever is happening stop immediately. Why don’t we decide on one now? That way, if you get freaked out when I’m talking because I’m giving you too much detail about something, I’ll shut up.”

  “Okay. What word is usually used?”

  “Red.”

  “You can’t just say stop?”

  “No because people might be playing a role where they ask for something to stop but don’t mean it. If they say red, they do. Any suggestions other than red?”

  “Tawaquf? That means stop in Arabic.”

  Roman laughed. “Not to be offensive but it sounds like you’re clearing your throat. Let’s stick to red.”

  “What if I said something that sounded like red but wasn’t red?”

  Roman followed him into the room. “Like what?”

  “Bed. Said. Head…” Zain’s voice trailed away as they reached the line of floggers and paddles.

  He watched as Zain took in the items hanging on the hooks.

  Zain pressed himself against Roman. “I don’t know if I’d like to be hurt. I want to be a doctor. My goal is to stop people hurting. Why would I want someone I care about to hurt me? Why would I want to hurt someone I care about?”

  “As a doctor, you want to stop someone feeling pain and that’s great because the patient wants that too. This is different. It’s not hurting someone for the sake of it. It’s about trust and control. Trusting your partner to take care of you during and after a scene. Pushing boundaries together to strengthen and deepen a relationship. You can’t go into this without discussing each individual’s ne
ed, how far they’re prepared to go and what fantasies they have.”

  “If I wanted to play at pirates and be fastened to a mast and flogged before the pirate captain decided to make me his cabin boy?”

  Roman’s mouth went dry. “That sort of fantasy. Yes. When you know what each other needs, there can be a heightened sense of safety, of freedom in what you’re doing.”

  Roman wasn’t sure if Zain was getting it or not but his cock was still semi-erect.

  “Gags,” Zain said.

  A change of subject. A few different types of gags were sitting on a shelving unit.

  “How do you say your safe word if you’re wearing a gag?” Zain asked.

  “How do you think?”

  “Blink out Morse code? I don’t know Morse code.”

  Roman smiled. “You could tap the floor or whatever hard surface is nearby. Hum. Snap your fingers.”

  “I can’t snap my fingers. Pathetic failure at that. I like the idea of humming a song. The Russian National Anthem or Row, row, row your boat.”

  Roman gave a short laugh.

  “What’s that?” Zain pointed to the wooden cross.

  “A St Andrew’s cross. It’s a way of restraining someone in a spread-eagle position.”

  “Upright or upside down?”

  “Upright. A different piece of equipment for upside down. Front to the cross for whipping, paddling, smacking. Back to the cross for teasing sexually. Generally, anyway.”

  “Is that where you offer a doughnut and then pull it out of reach?”

  “Does that turn you on?”

  “Buy doughnuts and you’ll see.” Zain smiled.

  Roman was reassured by his smile. Not too freaked out yet, then.

  “So it’s about control,” Zain said. “The Dominant taking control, the submissive giving it up. And power too. Trusting someone enough to let them take control of you, care for you, be responsible for your safety.”

  “Sometimes people find it hard to let go, to relax. When you’re in a formal, structured environment, or a stressful one, to allow someone take that worry away from you so all you can focus on is how you feel can provide an endorphin high for both Dom and sub.”

  Zain nodded. “Like being on a fairground ride. You’re scared but you’re strapped in so you can enjoy the danger.”