Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits

by Michael Murphy

  Cheeks coloring—at the compliment, I guessed—he nodded. “I can see that. I’d tell you I’d try not to think about it, but….”

  “But you won’t be able to help it. So, I want to focus your mind somewhere else. If it’s on me, you won’t be able to think about it.” I made a decision then too, nodding slightly to myself when I realized it felt right. “I’m also not going to let you come until Monday.”

  His eyes widened and he swallowed, his cock jumping in reaction. “Really?”

  “Yes. I think it’ll help.”

  “O-Okay,” he said, swallowing again.

  “We’ll discuss more of the particulars in a minute. This brings up a good point I also wanted to talk about. Kyle, let me ask you—and I won’t take anything as a reason not to answer this.”

  He blinked but nodded.

  “Okay. When can you use your safewords?”

  He looked very puzzled for a moment as he thought about it. “Uh… during our scenes.”

  “Yes. When else?”

  He frowned. “Well, uh, when you punish me, I know I can use them, though… I don’t want to.”

  “Well, want and will are two different things. We’ll come back to that. Over the next two and a half days—and, really, all the time—we behave most of the time as if we live a 24/7 lifestyle.” I waited for that to sink in. When his face cleared, I smiled. “Yes. I don’t call you a ‘slave.’ And I don’t think you’d want to be called one.”

  He shook his head.

  “Right. But, if I address you as ‘boy,’ your first thought is to call me—”

  “Master,” he finished for me, nodding.

  “Which means that you need to know you can use your safeword anytime. Not just when I’m paddling your ass or when I’m teasing and denying you. If I say something and you aren’t sure how to take it, how to answer it, you can use them. You can call a lemon and go take a breather. You can call cherry and we’ll go back to being Mal and Kyle for as long as we need to, whether that’s to figure out what’s wrong and fix it, or because you’re not comfortable with the dynamic anymore.”

  He frowned as he worked through all that. “I guess I never thought about it that way. I always thought of safewords as something for, like, pain. Or like you did two weeks ago and I wasn’t going to be able to keep from coming.”

  “Right. And usually, that’s what they are. But in a more full-time relationship—as we tend to be most of the time—I need to know you have a way to stop it, if you need to.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Good. Next. I know what you’re saying when you say you don’t want to use a safeword during punishment.” He frowned again and I held up a hand. “I get that, I really do. I know you know you deserve it. I know you need the punishment. I understand how that works, the emotional release you get from taking it for rules broken.”

  He nodded earnestly at that.

  “But.”

  He blinked.

  “But, in the end, I am not in your skin. I’m not in your body. If something isn’t feeling right, if something hurts the wrong way….”

  “You can’t know it,” he finished for me. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

  I squeezed his knee. “Don’t be. Just remember there are very good reasons for calling them. If you have to call a safeword during punishment, that doesn’t mean you won’t get it. You’ll still get your swats—maybe later or the next day—or we’ll do something else.”

  He smiled. “Okay, I see.”

  “Good.” I smiled back at him. “I brought that up because I realized something when I thought of it.” He tilted his head. “I mentioned this a little earlier. We spend most of our time acting as if we live in a 24/7 D/s relationship.” I took a breath. “I thought it was time to discuss whether or not you’d like to make that formal.”

  He blinked at me for a long moment, frowning. “We… we said we’d be Master and boy, though, uh, right? When you put this on me?” He touched his collar.

  I inclined my head. “Yes. I did. I gave you some rules, general things I don’t want you to do—like talking down about yourself. And I’ve given you tasks between times we’ve met. But the truth is, I feel like it’s not truly cemented that we are in a 24/7 D/s relationship, that it’s clear I am Master first and Mal second.”

  He nodded, then dropped his gaze to his hands. I gave him time to think about it. “What… what would that involve? I’m not dodging the question,” he said hurriedly.

  “I didn’t think so,” I assured him. “More or less the same thing as now, with the exception of some more official rules. Like, my name, first and foremost, is Master. You think of us as Master and boy first. Also, no clothes in the house unless someone vanilla comes to visit. Officially. I know I say I like it and you do it, but that’s not the same as a rule.”

  “Okay. Would we establish those before? Uh, talk about them?”

  “Oh yes. If we decide to officially be Master and boy all the time, I’ll have full rules—for both here and when we’re not together. We’ll establish—and both agree to—those before this weekend is over.”

  He looked thoughtful for a long time. “I’m not sure. It’s not that I don’t have an opinion. I don’t really know what it is yet.”

  “That’s fair. Would it help to know what I want?”

  He considered that. “I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t know if it would sway me or not.”

  I nodded. “That makes sense. But you probably also want to hesitate because whether you do or don’t want to officially be in a 24/7 relationship and I say the same, you might think I’m agreeing with you just to make you happy.”

  He smiled at that. “That’s a little scary.”

  I grinned. “I’m learning you.” I studied him for a moment. “Okay, how about I assure you that I have my own opinion. I know what I’d like, and doing what you want just because you want it isn’t going to do either of us any good, in the end.”

  “That… that makes sense.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I… I want to.”

  My smile was probably bright enough to light the room, and his spread to match it. “I think you can guess my opinion.”

  He nodded enthusiastically, grinning himself. “Yes, I think so.”

  “I’d like to try it. I’d like to write down the rules, more of them. I’d like to set formal punishments, more specifically than I have.” I took his hand and brushed my thumb over the back. “No matter what, you still have the ability to call it off.” I looked up and met his eyes. “Always.”

  “I understand, Mal. And I’ll remember that. I know how serious that is.”

  My smile came back. “Good. So, then. This weekend. Once we officially start, there will be many more rules than you’re used to. Our normal rules won’t be this strict. This is just for the weekend.”

  “Okay. What kind of rules?”

  “Well, first, of course, you’ll be naked. I like that rule.” I flashed a smile and he laughed. “I like you naked, boy, always accessible, hmm….” I let that fantasy roll around in my head for a moment. “We’ll come back to that.”

  He laughed again.

  “Naked. You’ll sit at my feet the whole weekend. That includes meals, which I will feed you. And drinks. Everything you get will come from me.”

  His eyes widened and he swallowed. “Okay. Is it… is it bad that this… that I like this? I like the idea?”

  I shook my head. “Oh hell no. It’s all the better.” I glanced down, noting his cock still hadn’t gone soft. “Obviously, pleasure is my decision. Basically, that body is completely, 100 percent controlled by me this weekend. You’ll ask me to use the bathroom, even.”

  His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. His cheeks flushed, and I was pretty sure his cock jumped again. “Everything?”

  I nodded. “Everything. The first thing we’re going to do is go upstairs and into the shower. I’m going to clean you out.”

  He blinked. “Clean me out? But, just t
his morning—”

  I shook my head. “It’s not about that.” I waited, knowing he’d get it, and I smiled when his face cleared.

  “Oh! I see. It’s the control.”

  “Exactly, yes.” I smiled wider. “You get the idea. I’m not going to tell you everything that will happen this weekend ahead of time.”

  “I trust you,” he said quietly. “And I have my safewords.”

  I smiled. “Good.” I paused, ran a thumb over one of his cheeks, then across his lips. “Then I think it’s time.”

  He looked at me for another moment, and I could see his heart pounding in the pulse at his throat, just above his collar. Then he slid off the couch to his knees, bent over, and placed a soft kiss on my foot. “Ready, Master,” he said as he sat up again, settling into presentation.

  “Beautiful, boy. Thank you.” I ran my thumb over his lips again, then stood. “Follow, boy.” Then I turned and started walking, knowing he’d follow.

  Chapter 16

  Kyle

  MY THOUGHTS swirled a mile a minute as I followed Master up the stairs. Academically, I understood what he was going for. That by focusing my attention on him, I’d be too preoccupied to think about my parents.

  In practice, I wasn’t sure it would work. Even with a week of denial, the date, the party, it had been lurking in the background. Nothing had really changed all that much since the last time I saw them—Thanksgiving—except that I was now in love with Mal. But the dinner loomed, worrying me more than was probably reasonable, and Mal had known I’d be stuck on it.

  It wasn’t that I never saw my parents. But I’d learned since college it was best if I kept our contact minimal. They usually spent more time discussing what I was doing wrong, which included everything from the career I’d chosen to the clothes I wore to the lack of wife, than they did actually talking to me. Being treated like a recalcitrant four-year-old all the time got old damned fast. Every time I was supposed to spend time with them—especially for their big Christmas dinner with so many of their friends—I dreaded it for days beforehand.

  I was certainly more than willing to try, though. I didn’t want to give them a chance to ruin my weekend. I didn’t want to be stressed out over what might or might not happen instead of enjoying a holiday with my lover and Master.

  I thought about what he said, about how I’d get everything from him. That would definitely keep my attention on him. I usually had no problem focusing on Master, but there was still room for doubts and more worries than a weekend like this should have. And time to let them take root.

  My cock bobbed as I followed him through the master bedroom and into the en suite bathroom. I loved this bathroom and threw a look toward the tub. I imagined us in there sometime, and it wasn’t the sexual part of that—though my brain was thoroughly fixated on it, as denied as I had been lately—but the intimate aspect that gave me pause. I loved the thought of bathing him down, slowly running a washcloth over him, and I hoped at some point I’d get to do that.

  Master must have seen me looking. When I turned to him, he was smiling. “Maybe later this weekend sometime,” he said, then gave his attention to the shower controls. Once the water was warming, he turned back. “Undress me,” he said, stepping forward.

  I carefully lifted off his shirt, making sure it was right-side out, then folded it neatly and laid it on the corner of the tub. His shorts and boxer briefs came next, also folded neatly, and I realized it was my own nakedness that had prompted his limited clothing. The warmer temperature in the house also registered then, as well. He’d been planning this.

  My cock jumped again at the thought and at how much he’d put into this weekend for me. I loved him all the more for it.

  Master crooked a finger at me, and I stepped closer. Then he lifted the key to my collar—I hadn’t even realized he had it; it must have been in a pocket—and removed the silver lock. I swallowed when it came off, but reminded myself it was only temporary. Master would return it as soon as we got done with the shower.

  “I have a thicker one I could put on you for the weekend that would be more obvious to you. But….” He paused when I frowned. “But I think this one means more to both of us.”

  I nodded. “It does, Master.” I hesitated when something occurred to me. “Master?”

  “Yes, beautiful boy?”

  God, I loved how he called me that. Every time he said it, he made me think he really believed I was beautiful. I cleared my throat. “Is…. Are there restrictions on speaking this weekend?”

  He shook his head. “No. Let’s talk about that while we get started.” He stepped into the shower and I followed, my eyebrows going up at the addition to the fixtures. He grinned. “I put it in today.” He lifted the long, thin steel nozzle and held it up. “I figured, even if you didn’t agree to a 24/7 setup, we would still want to make use of it.”

  I blushed—which was ridiculous because we’d done so much sexually, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. But that was the point; this wasn’t sexual. Getting cleaned out—removing waste—was a bodily function that, thus far, had been very private. He certainly had a point, though. If I spent more time here—and I sincerely hoped I would—then I’d want to be able to take care of that too.

  “That’s a good idea, Master,” I managed, though my cheeks burned.

  He smiled. “I’m glad you think so.” He stepped closer. “And since we are going to be in a full-time relationship, one of the things I would like—we’ll agree on them, but I don’t see you arguing with most of what I want—one of the things I’d like is to set up a grooming routine for you. Including making sure you’re cleaned out.”

  I liked that. I liked that he would tell me what he wanted from me as far as my body was concerned. The fact that he’d told me to keep myself shaved had been something that felt good: a small way to know I was serving him even when we weren’t together.

  “Turn around, boy, bend over, and brace yourself on the bench.” He reached for a tube on the shelf that I realized was lube. I did as he asked, pushing my ass out for him. “If I don’t want you to speak, I will give you specific orders for a time period,” he said as he laid a hand on one asscheek. “I want you to ask questions that come to mind.”

  He pushed one finger into my slippery, stretched hole. I’d spent some real time on it before I’d left to come here. I’d worked my way up to four fingers before getting dressed. I’d felt pleasantly open, making my anticipation even more keen as I drove over here.

  “Very good, boy,” he praised me, and I sighed as the praise filled me. I felt the cold steel against my ass then, and despite being stretched, my sphincter clenched a little as he pushed it against the muscle. I forced myself to relax and it slid easily inside. “Keep relaxed, boy,” he murmured, and a second later, warm water flooded my guts.

  My blush intensified. It shouldn’t have bothered me. Master had had his fingers, his dick, his tongue inside me. He’d come inside me, pushed several different plugs into me. But he’d never done this before.

  And that was part of the problem. All that had been sexual. This wasn’t. This was something that had always been private and to have even that controlled was so different from anything we’d done so far. Controlling me sexually made sense. Though I knew BDSM could be nonsexual—Master Nash had shown me that—it often was, especially between two people who were sexual with each other.

  This was much more about the control happening everywhere. I did my best to breathe and not let the embarrassment get to me. I groaned quietly as my guts started to cramp with the water. Master rubbed my belly, murmuring soothing sounds to me as I struggled to take it in.

  My face got redder as I strained harder. I felt bloated from all the water, though I knew it hadn’t been that much. My bowels gurgled and I almost whimpered, wanting to sink through the floor.

  “Shhh. You’re doing wonderfully, beautiful boy,” Master soothed me.

  I didn’t feel very beautiful. I didn’t know exactly w
hat I felt, but it wasn’t that. I wanted to hide, wanted Master to go away, wanted anything to not have him see this. When he said he wanted to do this, I had no idea I’d feel like this.

  The water flow stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I started to stand, but Master placed his hand on my back. “Hold on, boy,” he murmured, and I realized the nozzle was still in.

  To my further mortification, I started trembling, my flesh breaking out in goose bumps. Master continued to run his hands over me in comforting gestures, but I wasn’t calmed. The constant reminder that he was there only made my humiliation worse.

  To make it even more obvious, Master spoke. “Who do you belong to, boy?”

  It took me a moment to answer. “You, Master.”

  “Who’s doing this to you?”

  I frowned. “You are, Master.”

  “Who wants this done?”

  “You do, Master,” I murmured, puzzled.

  He rubbed my belly as I thought about that. My guts gurgled again, and a cramp hit on the tail of it. “Master,” I whimpered.

  “Shh, you’re doing great, boy. Just a little longer,” he said, making more soothing circles on my skin.

  I felt like I was going to explode. The trembling got worse and my bowels were trying to revolt.

  “I’m going to take it out. Hold the water in if you can until we get to the toilet,” he instructed me.

  I nodded, knowing there was no way I’d let go before then.

  He seemed satisfied with my nonverbal answer because the nozzle eased out of me. I clenched hard, contracting my muscles as much as I could. He helped me stand and guided me out of the shower. I walked gingerly, guts sloshing as we crossed to the toilet.

  I sat with relief—at least I hadn’t left a mess on the floor. I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself, and looked up at Master. He brushed my hair back. “Let go, boy.”