Alphas: Supes and Badboys (8 Books in One)

by Myles, Eden

  When we arrived, many of the other gentlemen, including Malcolm, greeted him as they had that first night, but he seemed less interested in mingling with them than with being with me. He walked me into the Great Hall so I could look at the pictures on the walls a little more closely. He showed me a cluster of photographs near the piano that he told me were of Elizabeth back when she was a young woman. She was very beautiful, very glamorous, like some silver screen actress, but at the same time, she seemed like someone I would have liked to have gotten to know.

  “There are rooms set aside to play in,” Mr. Karenina explained as he walked me along in my brand new tuxedo, my hand tucked into the crook of his arm. His voice was soft and playful tonight. “Playrooms where we can do almost anything, so long as it’s tasteful. Have I worn you out yet, Daniel?”

  “No,” I told him, trying not to blush like some amateur. “I like it when you play with me.”

  We found one that looked like a Japanese rock garden, and another that resembled a French boudoir. Most of the rooms were occupied by gentleman and their trained courtesans. I watched them make art and love in all different kinds of ways, all of them very pretty, very creative, but since it was mostly a visual art and Mr. Karenina was getting almost nothing from the experience, I asked him if we could move on. I knew he wasn’t here just to chaperone me; he wanted to play.

  Mr. Karenina ran his hand along the wall of an empty playroom and said, “The schoolroom.”

  It was, as I expected, decorated like a classroom, albeit of the Eighteenth Century variety, with a blackboard, head desk, and a collection of student desks clustered around in a U-shape. It was presently unoccupied. Mr. Karenina led me to the head desk and immediately started kissing and coddling me, darting his tongue in and out of my mouth while his hands moved up my back to cradle my head. I started making those noises he liked so much. He nibbled over my chin and throat, while one of his hands seized my thigh and squeezed, then moved upward to press hard against the fly of my new, tailor-made trousers so I made more noises and bucked against his hand. The trousers were just tight enough to look good but feel a little uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Karenina had designed them that way on purpose.

  “You’re hard for me, Daniel,” he said against my mouth. He clutched my cock and balls through the silken material. “Have you been a good boy during the last two weeks?”

  I thought about the kiss I’d shared with Simon. “No.”

  His clutched my genitals hard enough to hurt. Meanwhile, his other hand stole up the side of my neck to seize my chin as he misinterpreted my confession as play. “I shall have to punish you quite severely, then,” he said.

  He waited, waited to see if I would use one of our personal safe words to stop our play, but all I said was, “Yes.” The guilt had been eating through me for close to three days now.

  He released his iron hold on me. “Turn around and bend over the desk,” he commanded me, his voice clipped and as hard as steel, almost like he knew what I had done.

  I scrambled to turn, giving him my back. I leaned over the desk so my chest was resting against the hard, knotted walnut surface. But he grabbed the painful short hairs on the back of my head and pushed my head further down, until my cheek was pressed against the wood. That arched my back and stuck my rump further up. I gripped the edge of the desk for purchase, but that, too, displeased him, so he produced one of the black silk scarves he carried in his pocket and took my hands and carefully bound my wrists together tightly in the small of my back. I closed my eyes and gasped at the feel of his fingers gliding down my spine and up the incline of my ass. He undid my belt and trousers and pulled them and my underwear down to my knees.

  I wriggled in my compromised position and at the sensation of my cock and balls being crushed against the top of the desk as he pressed his body against my back, holding me down. “Stop it, Daniel,” he whispered harshly in my ear, his voice a sibilant, steel-edged hiss, but when I continued to struggle, he struck my bare ass with the palm of his hand, not a love tap. The impact made me cry out, and I was rewarded with another smack. This time I had the brains to bite my tongue and keep my mouth closed.

  “Good boy,” he said. “I don’t want to hear a word out of you.” He kicked my legs further apart and rubbed my ass where he’d struck me, then slid his fingers down my crack in order to tap at my ass. I writhed but only let the faintest grunt escape my mouth this time. “You’re a good student, Daniel,” he cooed. “You learn so fast.”

  There were a number of items on the teacher’s desk, among them books, a small McIntosh apple, a riding crop, and an old-fashioned spanking board, which looked a bit like a short, flat cricket bat with multiple holes bored into it. Mr. Karenina fingered the riding crop first, then abandoned it in favor of the spanking board. My heart started hammering at the sight, and I worked to keep breathing evenly instead of having some kind of a panic attack.

  The hard surface of the spanking board caressed my bare ass, and the feel of it, the wood smooth and hard against my skin, sent a fearful thrill through my body. I was already sore from the spanking Mr. Karenina had subjected me to. I didn’t know how much more I could endure without crying out. I closed my eyes and just concentrated on my breathing, but just as I thought I’d gotten myself under control, I heard the spanking board cutting through the air with a whistling noise, and then it cracked it against my ass so hard I couldn’t help but scream aloud at the sudden, humiliating pain.

  “Daniel,” Mr. Karenina growled with disappointment. He came around the desk and grabbed my hair and yanked my head up so I could see the grim, stony expression on his face, his narrowed eyes, his teeth set in a determined grimace. “I said not a word.” With his free hand he undid his trousers and I could see his already stiffened and engorged cock lying tight and nestled against the dark fur of his groin. Holding me by the scalp, he used his other hand to guide it into my mouth. He bucked his hips, making me deep-throat him all at once.

  I choked and he withdrew, used his dick to slap me across the face, then stuck it down my throat again, even farther than before so I gagged. “Suck,” he said, sliding it back a little ways, and I sucked as hard as I could until I felt him spurt his pre-cum down my throat. Then he withdrew it and shoved the apple in my teeth and told me to bite down. I bit, the taste of him, and the sweet tartness of the apple, mingling in my mouth. Then he returned to the task at hand, removing his dinner jacket and rolling up his sleeves as he got serious with his business.

  He took up the spanking board once more, testing its weight, then slammed it against my already sore ass. I snorted the pain through my nose and my teeth clenched into the apple like I had lockjaw. My body reacted despite my best efforts, writhing against the pain and humiliation, but I didn’t say a word, even when another crack came almost immediately following the first. As he continued to spank my sore and tingling ass, I prayed for numbness, but that didn’t happen. The board had been designed in just such a way as to delay the pain and then drive it deep into my body and make every part of me react to it. It didn’t get better. It just made me harder.

  He finally stopped to reach beneath me and fondle my cock and balls. My balls had drawn up tight against the front of my body, and my cock was wet with pre-cum I couldn’t control. “Daniel, you mustn’t come without my permission,” he hissed in my ear, sounding angry now. I shivered at the power pouring off his body, a kind of electrified passion. He rubbed the spanking board against my sore ass. I moaned at his touch, the enormous pressure building inside me, and he tightened his grip on my cock, his thumb pressing into my slit, while he brought the spanking board down one last time on my ass, hard. I was able to contain myself, but only barely. He licked my ear and said, “Are you mine, boy?”

  I nodded my head.

  “My toy? My courtier?”

  I nodded.

  “Good boy. You did exceptionally well, and I always reward good behavior.”

  I waited expectantly as he with
drew something new from his pocket, fully expecting it to be just as painful as the spanking. But watching him over my shoulder, I saw him lift a fine platinum chain from a velvet jewelry box and lower it so I could see it in front of me, a tiny platinum angel with wings outstretched. “I know you don’t care terribly for gifts, Daniel,” he said in a kind of breathless rush, “but when I visited my jeweler to have my watch repaired last week, he showed me this, and I loved the way it felt in my hand, and it reminded me so much of you that I decided you should have it. I won’t take a refusal.”

  He clipped the choker chain around my neck so the pendant rested in the sweating hallow of my throat. Mr. Karenina leaned down and kissed and licked the back of my neck, teeth nipping only very gently. I sighed at the loving attention he was showing me. Then he mounted me from behind, my arms pinned between our two bodies, and his hands sliding beneath me, grasping my cock and pumping me up and down, milking me slowly until his hands were coated in my pre-cum. Then he slid those fingers, wet and slippery, into my ass, widening me with a slow, circular motion until I threw my head back and hissed around the apple in my teeth. The pain and pleasure animated me, and I bucked so fiercely beneath him that he had to hold me down forcefully against the top of the desk for the penetration of his enormous cockhead.

  My body reacted to him automatically, and my hips started moving, both trying to take him deep inside me and resist him at the same time. He inched inward, then withdrew, only to thrust more forcefully into my wet hole. I started rocking against him in a primal mating dance, my teeth slicing slowly and steadily through the hard, sweet meat of the apple.

  He grunted as he fought his way deeper inside me. I arched my back and fought him off, challenging him to hold me down, to take me, until he was forced to dig his hands into my hips and to rest one of his knees against the edge of the desk just to subdue me long enough to fully seat himself inside me. He was bigger than me, his weight against my back substantial, but I was hardly a weakling. I’d spent enough summers swimming, playing basketball and riding horses to be rangy and stronger than I looked, and I reveled in the challenge I presented him.

  He hadn’t expected that, but my challenge excited his lusts all the more. He growled faintly against the back of my neck, then sank his teeth into the soft skin under my ear, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to tease a long, groaning response out of my throat. I shuddered at the delicious pain and stiffened beneath him, giving myself over to him. Having thus won his challenge, with me as the prize, he started fucking me in earnest, slamming in and out of me, his impacts driving my belly against the desk before dragging my hips back.

  I squealed around the apple. My ass tightened around his shaft, squeezing him hard enough to drag a growl of satisfaction out of him. His hands gripped and squeezed my ass before raking over my hips as he fucked me hard, holding me down and forcing me to take all of him fast and deep. He finally dragged my hips up one last time, twitched and convulsed inside me as he came, still pounding me so I screamed and my teeth cut right through the apple, the two halves breaking apart atop the desk.

  He cried out with something like pain and relief, the vibration of his voice shivering all along my spine. He stayed inside me for some moments even after he’d spent himself, breathing and snarling lightly against the back of my neck, his teeth still in my flesh. I shivered with a delicious fear and tried to move, to shuffle out from under him, but in seconds he was holding me down again and thrusting once more inside all my soreness, until I felt the second wave of his orgasm break over us both. I came with him the second time, convulsing against the top of the desk, my come jetting over his hand and over the desk.

  When he finally withdrew and turned to take me in his arms and kiss me tenderly, I realized we had a roomful of Dollhouse members seated at the desks, watching and nodding their approval at our performance.

  * * *

  Book IV: Angel in the Dark

  In the dark of his dorm, Simon pushed me back onto his bed and started kissing me. He started on my mouth but quickly worked his way along my jaw to my ear. His mouth was warm and dry, a little hesitant, like his hands, which fumbled along the buttons of my shirt, following them down until he’d reached the front of my jeans. He touched me there lightly, almost like my cock would bite him, then withdrew his hands.

  “Keep going,” I breathed. “And can we put the light on?”

  Simon stopped kissing my jaw and slid to one side on the bed. “Why do you want to put the light on?”

  “I want to see you. I want to see us together.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Why?”

  In the shadows of the room, Simon looked stricken. “It’s not right.”

  I snorted. “What do you mean?” I sat up on the bed, getting frustrated now. Ever since I’d started tutoring him, we’d had these weird make out sessions. He’d start coming onto me, and we’d move to the bed. We’d fumble around a little in the dark, kissing and touching, and slowly, bit by bit, Simon would get cold feet. It had taken him a week before he would even touch my cock through my pants, and he still hadn’t gone down on me. I couldn’t even get him to take his shirt off. “Do you want to be with me or not?”

  He looked surprised by my question. “Yeah, Daniel, I do.”

  “Then take your fucking shirt off already.”

  He looked surprised by my aggression. “I’m not ready.”

  I sighed and sat up. My stomach growled and I realized I hadn’t had anything to eat since a bagel early this morning. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  “Where?”

  I reached for my jacket. “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

  “We could order in.”

  Now I knew something was up. I turned and looked at him in the dark, the only light coming from some moody campus lights filtering through the curtains of his window and illuminating the framed football collage hanging above his bed. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

  He looked angry. “I will.”

  “But you haven’t.”

  “I said I will!” He sat up, getting defensive now. He’d promised me last week he’d come out to his teammates so we wouldn’t have to do all this sneaking around like a couple of criminals, but I had a feeling that was never going to happen. “Jesus, Daniel, you don’t have anyone in your life who’s going to freak.”

  I laughed at that. I thought about my dad, a hardworking, Midwestern, blue-collar construction worker, a man who went to church, paid his taxes, loved basketball, and who had raised two kids with his wife of thirty years. He was the kind of man who would stop to help a woman whose car had broken down on the side of the road. The kind of man you’d feel totally comfortable sharing a couple beers with down at the local watering hole. Except if you were queer. Then he’d probably break your face.

  And I had to see him this weekend.

  I just knew how that was going to go. I was going home for my sister’s wedding—going alone because Sheri refused to rescue me—and while I was there, my ex Melissa was going to hunt me down, haunt me until she got me alone, and then make her move. I was going to have to tell her the truth, and knowing Melissa, she was going to run straight to my dad and tell him everything. My hometown would know by nightfall. My mom might understand, and my sister Chloe, but my dad was going to pitch a fit and disown me.

  “Tell you what, Simon,” I said, feeling endlessly depressed about my situation, and more than a little cranky with Simon’s indecision. “When you figure out what the hell you want, come see me, okay?”

  Simon looked at me funny. “You know, Daniel, somehow I never pegged you for the bossy alpha type.”

  I shrugged and stepped outside his dorm and pulled the door closed behind me.

  * * *

  I hadn’t expected to like La Boheme. It was opera, and I used to think…opera, ugh. But in the Fourth Act, when Musetta and Marcello leave the garret to sell Musetta's earrings in order to buy medicine for the failing Mimi,
I had tears in my eyes. And when Mimi finally died, I found myself clutching Mr. Karenina’s arm and resting my head on his shoulder, trying desperately not to cry along with Rodolfo. How stupid was that? But it was dark, and we had a private box, so there was no way anyone could see us.

  The thought made me ashamed. I realized I was no better than Simon, scuttling around the city with my lover, afraid to show him off to anyone, my friends or my family, for fear of what they might say and think. That was stupid, too, and by the time we were back in the Lincoln, the city flashing by unseen beyond the tinted windows, I was feeling worse than ever. And I had finally made a decision.

  I was going to ask Mr. Karenina to fly home with me, be with me, for my sister’s wedding. I wasn’t going to be like Simon, who didn’t know what the hell he wanted, who cared more about what some bunch of jocks thought of him than with being with the guy he liked. I lay cuddled against Mr. Karenina’s arm and said, “Can I ask you something, sir?”

  “Only if I may ask something in return.”

  “Sure,” I said, suddenly a little nervous, and a lot more excited. I reached up and played with the angel pendant around my neck, the one he had given me. I wondered if he was going to ask me to try some new kink with him at the Dollhouse, not that I would mind so much. I trusted him. I tried twice to ask him to go with me to Kansas, then finally gave up and said, “You go first.”

  “Who is the young man you’ve been seeing?”

  I stiffened at his words. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been with someone. I can smell him on your skin.”

  I sat up and looked at Mr. Karenina, but he was facing forward, not looking at me at all. I knew there was no point in lying to him. You can’t lie to someone when they can small another man on your body, but my voice was small and weak. “His name is Simon. He’s a student, like me. I’m tutoring him in economics.”