Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits

by Michael Murphy

  Cam sighed, finally losing his grin, and put a hand on my arm. “Do you really still blame yourself for that? I thought, after all this time, that you’d let that go.”

  I hesitated. I’d told him that much, that I blamed myself for what happened, but not the hows or whys. If I told him the truth, he’d realize how flimsy my excuse was for not taking on a new sub, for not playing. But I didn’t lie as a rule, and less so to Cam. We’d been best friends most of our lives and he’d support me, like always, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him. I’d kept this under lock and key for a reason.

  I considered it for a long moment, then decided to go for a partial truth, to give him a little more in the hopes he’d leave it alone this time. “I never told you this…,” I said, leaning back against my car. Cam raised an eyebrow, and I cleared my throat. “I pushed him to Stevenson.”

  Cam blinked at me. “You… what?”

  I nodded. “I pushed him. I’d heard plenty good about the guy—we all had. And, well, while I didn’t say ‘hey, go play with him,’ it wasn’t far off. I dropped his name, hinted at the stuff he did. If I hadn’t, if I’d….” If I’d been a better Dom. If I could have handled Blake, given him what he wanted, he’d never have gone to someone else. Never would have gotten killed.

  “Why?”

  I should have known he wouldn’t just accept that. I blew out a breath, then forced the words out before I could change my mind. “I wasn’t enough for Blake.”

  “You… what?”

  I couldn’t look at him. Cam, though as straight as they came, had submitted to me a few times for play. He’d never seemed to have a problem with me as a Dom, and it was probably stupid, but I never wanted him to know this. Even if I never picked up a flogger again, I wanted him to keep the idea that I’d been a good Dom, done for him what he needed. I’d made him fly, and as ridiculous as it was, I didn’t want those memories tarnished by the truth. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle my own sub, the one I’d trained, the one I’d discovered kink with. But it was out now. I had to tell him.

  “I wasn’t enough. I sucked as a Dom. I had hard limits he couldn’t handle.”

  Cam raised an eyebrow. “You had limits he couldn’t handle?”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed. “There were, well, there were a few things he wanted that I wasn’t willing to give him. For one thing… he wanted me to burn him. Not safe pain. Not the stuff I’ve given you. He wanted the kind of stuff that broke skin and left scarred tissue behind. He wanted single tails and bullwhips, stuff I’d never used.” I cleared my throat. “He showed me how much I lacked as a Dom. I pushed him to Stevenson.”

  Cam dropped his face into his palm and sighed, then looked up again. “So, let me get this straight. Because he claimed you… what was it? Sucked as a Dom?”

  I nodded. That was close enough.

  “Because he claimed you sucked as a Dom, he went to someone else. A relative stranger. He agreed to a private scene in a private home for his first time with him, ignoring every safety protocol imaginable, then got himself strangled with a string of Christmas lights by said stranger, who turned out to be none other than a serial killer. And you blame yourself for that.”

  I just looked at him for a moment, not quite sure how to take that. Or answer it. I’d never considered it from that perspective before. “Uh….” It was all I had.

  Cam simply stared at me. “He was a motherfucking jack-ass-hat of a moron.”

  I blinked at him in shock. “What?”

  “He was an asshat. Dick weasel. Fucktard. Douche nozzle. Pick your insult.” He shook his head. “And all this time, you’ve been blaming yourself for pushing him to Stevenson? He was the fucking idiot. I thought you knew that.”

  I couldn’t figure out what to say. That was the last thing I expected to hear. I squirmed inwardly, caught between defending Blake’s memory and wanting, maybe a little too desperately, to believe my best friend.

  “Shouldn’t I? Blame myself?” I finally asked quietly.

  Cam was shaking his head before I finished. “Oh fuck no. Setting aside your limits for a moment, in the end, it’s on him. He ignored the safety protocols. Did you even know he’d gone?”

  I shook my head.

  “Did he tell anyone?”

  Again, I shook my head.

  “No phone numbers. No checking in. He went home with the guy, alone. Played for the first time, alone.”

  I dropped my gaze to my shoes and took a deep breath. A weight I’d been carrying around for two years seemed a lot lighter all of a sudden and I wanted to kick myself a little for not telling my best friend—the one I should have known would understand—more than I had.

  “All this time…,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

  “One more thing,” Cam said, drawing my attention.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t suck as a Dom. In all the time we’ve been playing, Sammy’s made me fly a handful of times. You? Every fucking time. Blake’s problem wasn’t that you weren’t a good Dom, Mal. Blake’s problem was that he wasn’t a good sub. He wasn’t a sub.”

  I scowled. “Of course he was a sub.”

  Cam shook his head. “No, he wasn’t. I thought you knew that. He subbed for you because he wanted to play with you. But he told me he’d realized he wasn’t.”

  “Well, fuck,” I said, frowning. “Why didn’t he tell me that?”

  “Who knows?” Cam shrugged. “Maybe he thought you’d stop playing altogether? I don’t understand why he’d sub for Stevenson if he knew he was a Dom, but maybe he just wasn’t comfortable Domming. Or maybe he was more switch than he told me. Or maybe he never got a chance to play. Or… who knows? But it wasn’t because you sucked. You didn’t.”

  While a lot to digest, it explained so much: why Blake never went into subspace in all the times we’d played; why he never seemed content with what we did. It brought up another problem for me, though. All that time, I’d thought I knew what to look for in a submissive, that I recognized submission. If Blake wasn’t….

  I cleared my throat and looked up at Cam. “I… I have to think about this.”

  Cam frowned. “Mal, you’ve had two years to—”

  “Not this. This is… I haven’t thought of any of it like this. I need a little time.” Cam sighed, and I knew he was giving in. I stepped back and opened his door for him. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

  With a disgruntled look at me, Cam slid into the seat. “She’s gonna beat my ass over this,” he muttered.

  When I got in on my side, I snickered. “If you weren’t such a masochist, I’d put in a good word. But you love it and you know it.” I paused thoughtfully. “Maybe I will put in a good word and she’ll beat you even harder for it.”

  Cam rolled his eyes. “Just drive, asshole.”

  IT TOOK me another month. I let the things Cam had said to me roll around in my head, looking at them from different angles, but I kept coming back to the same things.

  Blake’s death had hit me so hard because I blamed myself. We hadn’t been in love. We’d dated now and again, had been good friends—he was the closest to me after Cam—and roommates with benefits. We’d cared about each other, maybe even loved each other, but more in a close-friend way than as boyfriends, and that was it. It hurt and I grieved, but more than that, it was the blame I’d placed on myself that had gotten to me.

  I wasn’t at fault, though, and I could accept that now. Cam had made me see it objectively.

  So for the first time in a long time, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, wearing snug leather pants, a leather harness, armbands, and motorcycle boots. My long black hair was brushed and left loose, the wild curls giving me a bit of a dangerous look, made more so by the neatly trimmed goatee. A flogger hung from my belt, and my travel bag was packed with the rest of my typical toys.

  I didn’t know if I’d play tonight. I still wasn’t entirely sure, but I felt better—a lot be
tter—than I had in a long time. With one final glance, I headed out.

  OUR PREFERRED local dungeon wasn’t exactly the prettiest center for kinkiness in the US. Despite living in a relatively large metropolis, there were only three dungeons in the area. One irritated me for its attitude about looks—Cam and Sammy, overweight as they were, wouldn’t have been welcome, so I refused to give them my money. Another was nice but more expensive, and though I was certainly not hard pressed for money, Cam and Sammy were far from rich. And I was damned sure going to be there on a night they were.

  Besides, Cam had made more than a few pointed comments about being under my flogger. If nothing else, I could tie him down and work him over. Sammy never minded reaping the benefits.

  The Asylum had been around for ages, and it showed in places. But I wasn’t there to admire the plasterwork or the door to the smoking porch.

  I signed in, paid the fee, and turned off my phone before I stepped into the social room. The place was packed, which surprised me. Not that the Asylum didn’t get a lot of traffic—it did sometimes. But this seemed way more than I was used to.

  I found Sammy perched on the end of a couch in a tight corset, short black skirt, fishnet stockings, and heels that made my feet ache just looking at them. Cam knelt at her feet in his collar, leather chaps, thong, and nothing else. I’d once harbored a crush on him, and even with the little extra padding—which looked good and wasn’t as much as I gave him shit for—I still thought he was hot. If he’d ever even hinted at experimenting with guys, I’d have jumped at the chance. But he was happily married and collared.

  Sammy beamed up at me, holding her arms out. I gave her a hug, stepped around the end of the couch, and squatted out of the way. “I’m so glad you came!” She nearly cheered.

  “Not yet,” I said, winking, and she laughed.

  “Well, I do hope we can change that tonight!” She reached out and petted Cam on the head, which was the permission he needed to look up and speak.

  “Damned straight. Don’t make me have to test my sexuality just to get you something.”

  I snorted. “Thanks, but I don’t want a pity fuck, even from you.” I smacked Cam in the back of the head.

  He smirked at me. “All the fucks you’re gonna get.”

  I flipped him off and turned to Sammy. “Why’s it so full?”

  “Oh, didn’t he tell you?” she asked, glancing at Cam, who blushed.

  “Uh, no….”

  “It’s the Christmas party.” Sammy glared at Cam, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable. She leaned down, but I could still hear her clearly. “Boy, do you want out of that cage?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Cam said, whimpering.

  “Then you better apologize to Master Mal really damned fast and mean it. Or your cock won’t get anywhere near me tonight.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Cam looked up and really did seem apologetic. “I’m sorry, Master Mal.”

  I nodded. “Accepted, boy.” I knew why he hadn’t told me. He was afraid it would keep me away. I wasn’t sure I appreciated the omission, but I did understand. “It’s fine. I know why.”

  She smiled up at me. “Doesn’t make it right.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle and glance at Cam. “So, boy, you been without for a while?” I couldn’t stop the evil grin.

  Cam groaned. “Yes. Mistress has had me locked up for two weeks. I haven’t been allowed to fuck her with my own cock for almost the entire time.”

  Sammy beamed at him. “And do you want to tell Master Mal what you did instead?”

  Cam’s face heated. “I fucked her with her cock, strapped over my locked one.”

  I could imagine just how frustrating that would have been. I would have felt more sympathy for him if I didn’t know he reveled in that stuff. “Well, then, I suggest you behave tonight, boy, so you can get that cock back in use.”

  He swallowed, looking up through his eyelashes at me. “Yes, Sir.”

  I turned to Sammy, deciding to help him out a bit. “Have a bit of mercy on him. He helped me a lot. I wouldn’t be here without that.”

  She studied Cam. “If he behaves the rest of the night, we’ll leave the cage off for a few days.” She grinned a little evilly. “I might even let him fuck me more than once.”

  Cam looked so hopeful, I almost told her to leave him in it. The sadist in me was coming out to play, apparently. It felt good.

  “I’ll be good, Mistress!”

  “I didn’t say I’d let you come more than once, boy.”

  Cam whimpered and swallowed. “Yes, Mistress,” he murmured, sounding pitiful.

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t either.”

  He grinned at that. “I’ll be good, Mistress!” he promised again.

  I chuckled and stood, trying to decide what I wanted to do. It was so crowded, I wasn’t sure I’d find anyone to play with, even if I wanted to. I looked around but saw mostly straight couples sitting together.

  Sammy pulled on me and I turned to her. “The dungeon isn’t as full,” she said, accurately reading my expression. “And the slave auction is starting in a few. You might want to go check it out. The slaves up for auction are in cages in the event area.”

  “Okay. Are you guys coming in?”

  “We’ll watch the auction, then probably look for a place to play.” She patted my hand and waved at the door. “Go! Find a pretty little twink to torture.”

  I rolled my eyes, laughing at her word choice. It killed me just how much she knew about gay culture. Not for the first time, I wondered what she read on that Kindle of hers. I patted Cam’s head and turned to make my way through the crowd.

  I didn’t usually go for twinks. There was a reason Blake and I spent plenty of time fucking. Something about having a big guy submit to me got my blood going.

  Somehow I didn’t think there’d be a lot of big gay submissives up for auction tonight.

  The change from the social area to the dungeon was almost jarring. Where the social room was loud, crowded, and warm, the dungeon was quiet, open, and cool. It was divided into two sections. The farthest section contained the play areas. The closer section—the one I stopped in—was for events, painted dark red and with a huge oriental rug on the floor. One end held a low, small stage usually for demos, and the rest was normally empty.

  Tonight, a guy in a suit was already on the stage, fussing with a microphone. To my left, a row of cages—taller than normal dog cages, but not by much—lined the wall. I counted six in all, all filled. On top of each cage, there was a card and, inside, a mostly naked person.

  I stepped up to the first and looked at the card before turning my attention to the cage occupant. The man inside was older than me by a good twenty years. His hair was silver, and he wore a thong, a wide leather collar, and nothing else. He sat with his legs crossed and head down. While he wasn’t bad-looking, I didn’t usually go for that much older than me. I was slightly relieved when his card listed, along with a number of activities, a preference for women.

  The next three cages held women, so I skipped those. Woman bits never interested me in the least. I liked my lovers with their genitalia on the outside.

  The fifth cage made me stop. Smaller and a bit younger than I’d ever played with, he knelt, head bowed, hands clasped behind the small of his back. It was difficult to tell with him in that position, but I’d have guessed he was still plenty tall. His chest had lean muscle and his abs were tight, if not overly defined, which was what I liked. His legs had more muscles. I pegged him as a runner or swimmer. Soft brown hair hung over his face, and he wore nothing but a tiny black leather jock. He had rings in both nipples, and I could clearly see the outline of a PA in his dick, which looked quite substantial for his size, even flaccid.

  On his card he’d listed service, impact, sensation, wax, and fire play as options, though what really caught my eye was in parentheses at the end: “Other options available within hard limits.” I was impressed that he was willing to enforce his limit
s. It listed his age as twenty-three. Eight years difference wasn’t that bad, not that it mattered for just a play session. But what really got me was the next line: “Preference: male Dominant.”

  I squatted in front of his cage. “Boy, look up at me.” I put every bit of Dom I had into my voice.

  He lifted his head immediately, and a shiver went through him. His gaze never went above my neck, and the show of submission called to every Dominant cell in my body. I wanted him. It was that fast and that simple, and it rocked me more than a bit.

  It also let me know I did, in fact, know how to recognize submission. Maybe I’d just been blinded all those years by my knowledge of Blake. Maybe he’d been good at pretending. I didn’t know, but this boy looked a lot more honest, somehow. I pushed the worry off for later and considered him.

  One look at him left me a little breathless. His round face had full cheeks, a tiny chin, and an almost button nose. He put me in mind of an elf or fae creature. I probably wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d had pointy ears. His green eyes filled his face, and his mouth… dear God, it was a mouth made for sucking cock. Full pink lips that I could tell he was struggling to keep from biting.

  “Why do you prefer men, boy?” It was entirely possible he wanted to simply avoid sex, and I didn’t want misunderstandings. If it was just for that, I’d certainly play with him… then go home and jack off until I was sore. But I wanted it clear before we went into anything, and I could admit I was hoping that wasn’t the reason. Of course, I was assuming I’d win the auction, which I was pretty sure I could guarantee.

  While I might not be called “wealthy,” I did more than all right for myself. My tech security firm had paid off my modest house early and made sure I had a good car at all times. I never had to worry about the lights getting shut off in the winter, like I had growing up. It had also allowed me to build up a tidy savings account, should anything go wrong.

  I could afford to win this boy.