Golden Boy Two-Volume Set

by Claire Thompson

  The man’s smile was wolfish. “A god,” he gushed. “A Greek god. Where have you been keeping this perfect boy?”

  “Keep your dick in your pants, Mark.” Eric laughed. “Johnny belongs to me. This is his coming-out party, so treat him nice.”

  Mark guffawed. “Understood. Hands off Eric’s latest boy toy.” Johnny frowned at this description. Eric put his arm around Johnny’s shoulders, shaking his head as if to say, just ignore him.

  Stepping back, Mark waved his arm in invitation for them to enter. “Jason!” he called. “Our Odysseus has returned at last from his adventures. And just wait till you see the treasure he brought back with him!”

  A much shorter man, thin and wiry with a receding hairline and rimless round glasses, came into the room. He stopped abruptly upon seeing Eric and Johnny, putting his hands up to his face, his mouth a perfect O. After a moment of holding this pose he breathed, “Eric Méndez. Home at last. And this! Who is this? This picture of blond perfection? This golden boy!”

  Johnny bristled but Eric just laughed. He moved toward Jason, allowing himself to be hugged and exchanging air kisses on each cheek. “That’s exactly what I call him, my golden boy. Johnny—” Eric turned to his lover. “Meet Mark and Jason, owners of the Cavern and our gracious hosts for the evening.”

  Turning back to Jason, Eric said, “We’d like to relax for a while in the juice bar. I want to give Johnny a chance to get his bearings.”

  “Of course, of course,” Jason said. “We have some lovely crab puffs tonight, and some delicious sausage and cheese pastries Mark made, if there are any left, that is. He was so busy sampling them I’m not sure any actually made it to the refreshment table.”

  As they entered the juice bar, Johnny took in his surroundings. The walls were paneled in dark wood, a fire burning in the hearth. It was a comfortable room, set about with several small tables. A long, high bar had been built along one wall and a man stood behind it lining glasses in a neat row along the countertop.

  Several of the tables were occupied, and all the occupants turned to stare as Johnny and Eric made their entrance. Almost all of them waved or called out to Eric, who smiled and waved back his greetings. Johnny felt strange. Of course he’d known Eric was popular in the scene—hadn’t Amanda warned him, hadn’t Eric himself admitted as much? He recalled the throng of admirers at DeSoto’s, and his own first glimpse of his future lover in the center of them.

  But it was one thing to know it in the abstract, and quite another to witness it firsthand. A very handsome Latino man dressed only in bright red biker shorts with no shirt came over to their table and knelt next to Eric, his head bowed in obvious submission. A strange feeling swept through Johnny, leaving a corrosive bitterness in its wake. It took him a moment to identify the unwelcome emotion—jealousy.

  “Alfonso, good to see you. Where is Peter tonight?” Eric patted the man’s head as if he was a puppy. Alfonso looked up shyly at him and beamed. Johnny noticed the silver bars piercing each nipple, a little silver ball on either end. His own nipples stiffened in sympathy. Alfonso observed him looking and proudly puffed out his chest. Johnny looked away. Something in the man’s face bothered him, though he couldn’t quite say what. He had slightly protruding, beady little eyes, and there was a sneaky look in his long, pointed face, calling to mind a rodent.

  “Master Peter’s already in the playroom.” Alfonso turned back to Eric. “He’s, um, interviewing a potential play partner and he told me to wait in here.” Johnny stared more closely at the man. He gathered from this brief conversation that Alfonso was Peter’s sub.

  Would Eric do that to him? Have him wait while he went to “interview” some other guy? Johnny shifted and glanced at Eric, but Eric seemed oblivious of him for the moment. “Who’s here?” he asked Alfonso.

  “Oh.” Alfonso shrugged elaborately. “The usual suspects. The party’s just getting started.” He turned again to gaze at Johnny, his look hungry. “I do hope you’ll be showing off this delicious piece of ass.” Alfonso’s voice had lost its submissive tone. Reaching out, he touched Johnny’s thigh. Johnny resisted the impulse to smack the hand away.

  Eric had warned him people would touch him, and he was to accept whatever came his way, as long as Eric approved it. Eric didn’t seem to mind this man’s hand on Johnny’s thigh, so Johnny sat still, though he could feel heat in his face.

  Alfonso giggled in an irritating way and cooed, “Isn’t he just too adorable? Blushing like a girl because I touched his leg! Where have you been hiding this delicious morsel?”

  Eric reached over and gently brushed away Alfonso’s hand, which had begun moving upward toward Johnny’s crotch. “He’s from Mount Olympus,” he said, smiling. “But I’m very possessive of him, Alfonso. So hands off. At least for now.”

  Johnny was grateful Eric had pushed the man’s hand away, though Eric’s last words were not lost on him. What did the evening hold in store? Was he up to it? Eric had told him they wouldn’t be drinking alcohol before going into the playroom, as he wanted both their minds clear and aware in a new situation.

  “I’m going to give you something I don’t usually bother with,” Eric had said as they drove out of the city and toward New Jersey. “It’s called a safeword. The idea is if a sub feels in trouble or too out of control during a scene, they can use the word and there’s no confusing it. You know how someone might say, ‘no, no, no’, but really mean, ‘yes, yes, yes’?”

  Johnny nodded, having been guilty himself of this a time or two when things had gotten pretty intense at Eric’s place. “Well,” Eric said, “when you’re with someone, when you know them and trust them, and they trust you, you have a sense of what they really want and what they don’t. And as a Dom, it’s your duty and responsibility to know your sub’s limits, what feels right for them and what is going past their boundaries.

  “That’s why you and I have never discussed a safeword. If you want me to stop something I’m doing, you tell me and I weigh your plea, and I decide if I will stop. Simple, right?” Johnny nodded, and Eric continued. “But that’s not necessarily so in public. If I let someone else play with you at the club tonight, that person, even if he is a sensitive and experienced Dom, might miss cues, not understand signals. Especially if you’re bound or gagged or in any way unable to express yourself clearly.”

  “Eric,” Johnny said, finally voicing what had been worrying him all night. “I don’t know about this whole thing, you know? I mean, it sounded really sexy and exciting while we were lying in bed together discussing it in theory, but now that we’re actually going to do it, I…” He trailed off, embarrassed to admit his fears.

  Eric finished his sentence for him. “You’re scared. I know, sweetheart. That’s natural. Fear of the unknown, fear you won’t be a graceful sub—that you’ll be unable or unwilling to obey a command given to you. And for you it’s even harder, since you have the added new dimension of this being an all-gay club. You’re used to, even if it wasn’t right for you, being with women. I do understand all that, Johnny.”

  He paused, glancing from the road to look at Johnny. “But you know what? Sometimes the very things we’re frightened of are the ones we want most. And sometimes the very things we think we can’t do are just what we need to do to grow.” Eric reached over, gently stroking Johnny’s cheek. “If I didn’t think you were ready to move to this new step in your training, we would be home right now. I have faith in you, Johnny. And I love you.”

  The words caught Johnny’s attention more than anything else Eric had said that night. I love you. Neither of them had said these words very often to one another, though Johnny knew he felt love, fierce love, for the man who had become the center of his world. He wanted to say it back, but for some stupid reason the words stuck in his throat, so instead he had said, “So tell me more about this safeword thing? I think I remember reading something about it online. I say something like ‘pickle’ or ‘red light’ and you know I mean business. That I need thi
ngs to stop right then or I’m going to, like, die of a panic attack or something.”

  Eric had laughed. “Yes, something like that, yes. If we play with others tonight at the Cavern, I will make sure everyone knows your safeword, and they will respect it. But,” he had said soberly, “if you use it, make sure you mean it. A safeword is a last resort. It’s something you use when your Dom is not catching on that you need things slowed down or stopped. And if you use it, be ready for the game to be over. Using a safeword means you’re overloaded and all action ceases.”

  Johnny felt his stomach clench in nervous anticipation that he might be put into such a situation, but Eric, as usual, read his mind. “Don’t worry, Johnny. I’ll be there. I will not leave you alone at any point. I know you can take a lot, more than you think you can, and I hope tonight we find out more about the edges of your sensual envelope. But if you need the escape of the safeword, you use it, and I’ll be right there to catch you, okay?”

  “Eric,” Johnny had said, again not finishing his thought. He wanted this, his cock was nudging at his thigh as he thought about being stripped and tortured by strange, sexy men, or whatever was going to happen to him. But he also felt nervous. Really nervous. He knew he should be more honest with Eric and confide the level of his fears, but the macho part of him, the part that had been beaten into him from an early age, wouldn’t let him admit his weakness, or what he perceived to be his weakness.

  So instead he had asked, “So, what’s my safeword?”

  “Let’s see,” Eric had mused. “What would be a good one?”

  “How about abuela?”

  Eric had grinned, his even, white teeth flashing in the dark, making Johnny’s heart flip-flop as his smile always did. “That’s perfect. Not something you’d usually say. And my grandma would be happy to know she was of service.”

  Now, as Alfonso went back to his table to wait for his Master, Eric leaned over to Johnny. “How’re you doing? You okay? You ready to go into the playroom and check things out?”

  Johnny swallowed hard. He didn’t honestly know if he’d ever be ready. But it was clear Eric wanted this, and a part of Johnny was excited by the thought of playing with other guys, whatever that entailed. He knew Eric wouldn’t let things go too far. He could trust Eric to keep him safe.

  “Johnny?”

  “Yeah. I think so. I mean, yes. I am.”

  “Good.” Eric nodded and stood. “What’s your safeword?”

  “Abuela.”

  “After you.” Eric waved his hand toward the door. Johnny drank the last of his juice and stood, his heart already high in his throat.

  This is it, Johnny Wilson. Now we’ll find out if you’re a mouse or a man. He had to laugh a little as they walked. Imagine defining manliness as the willingness to submit to someone else. To strip naked, to be cuffed, bound, whipped and used, and submit with what Eric called grace.

  But Johnny understood now, as he followed his Master up the curved oak staircase to the second floor and into the large, dimly lit playroom, it took enormous courage to do what he was about to do.

  He only hoped he was up to it.

  Chapter 15

  The playroom was the size of a large living room. Eric explained that Mark and Jason had converted two rooms, taking down a wall so there was ample space to mingle and play. Several cubicle-type partitions were set up throughout the room, providing semi-private play spaces for couples and small groups.

  In one corner sheer netting had been stretched over a wooden frame, with thick, flat bands of rubber stretched across it in random patterns, creating something that looked like a gigantic spider web. Clips hung at various intervals along the bands, ideal for securing a sub boy. “We call that the web,” Eric said, no doubt noticing Johnny’s fascinated stare. “Perfect for torturing slaves. You can whip them from either side or both sides at once. It’s a very effective restraining device.”

  As Eric guided Johnny about the room, he pointed out the sturdy chains dangling from the ceiling in several spots, with thick leather collars and wrist cuffs already attached and waiting to be filled. One wall had a variety of floggers, whips, canes, riding crops and paddles hung on bicycle hooks for easy access. Most Doms had their own bag of tricks, Eric told him. He had packed a duffel bag of their favorite toys as well, but these extra toys, he told Johnny, were available for those who wanted them, and many lucky slaves had felt their fiery sting over the years.

  Johnny noticed a long table that looked like an exam table in a doctor’s office. Next to it was a high, round table covered with various candles, both tapers and glass jars, all lit. Eric, following his gaze, remarked, “That’s the candle-wax table. You’ll see that later, or maybe experience it later, if I decide. They put the sub up there and tie him down—see the belts along the table? People can come by and drip hot wax on them. It’s quite entertaining, and you can make some cool patterns with all that colorful wax.” Eric spoke in a playful tone, but Johnny couldn’t help the shudder of nervous excitement that went through him as he imagined himself naked and tied down on that table.

  He turned to see who was in the room. There were about ten guys and Johnny recalled Alfonso saying the party was just getting started. It was easy to identify some of the men as submissive and others as Doms. One sub wore only a jock strap, leather wrist and ankle cuffs and a black mask completely covering his face, with small holes cut for his eyes, nostrils and mouth.

  Johnny stared around him, his eyes wide, his mouth closed only because he forced it shut, his instinct being to gape. One guy was completely naked except for a small metal cage around his cock and balls. He was bound to a thick post that extended from floor to ceiling. “That’s a whipping post,” Eric said unnecessarily, as the man was at that moment being flogged with a heavy leather flogger. As they moved closer, Johnny could hear the erotic sound of slapping leather against the man’s bare flesh.

  The man was moaning and grunting. Several men were gathered around the couple, and Johnny imagined he could feel the sexual excitement buzzing in the air like bees. Johnny and he joined the group of onlookers, several of whom glanced toward him as they approached. Johnny couldn’t help but notice the stares and whispered remarks as people checked him out with no attempt at discretion. He noticed the room was pretty quiet. There was no thumping music in the background—this was not the party atmosphere of a club or hangout. A flat screen TV was mounted on one wall, the sound turned down on what appeared to be gay porn. Johnny stared at the erotic image of the two naked men sweating and twisting together on the screen.

  Eric touched Johnny’s arm and said quietly, “Come over here. It’s time to get ready.”

  Johnny’s heart started hammering in his chest as Eric led him down a hallway to a room that turned out to be a large bathroom with lockers built along one wall. No one else was in the room at the moment.

  Before they had left for the party, Eric had instructed Johnny to pack the bag with their favorite whip, a riding crop and Johnny’s leather wrist and ankle cuffs, along with the chastity codpiece he’d tried on earlier that evening. Eric set their small duffel bag on the floor and unzipped it.

  “You ready, Johnny?”

  “No.” Johnny hadn’t meant to say that—it had just popped out.

  “Excuse me?” Eric raised his eyebrows.

  Johnny swallowed and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to blow this evening. “Yes,” he amended. “I think.”

  Eric laughed and tousled Johnny’s hair affectionately. “Stop looking so fucking serious, babe. You’re not going to an execution. This is supposed to be fun!” He smiled, his eyes warm. “Listen to me, Johnny. You’re the hottest guy in this place. Did you see those guys out there? They’re salivating already, tripping over themselves to get a better look at you.”

  This comment might have been intended to make Johnny less nervous, but it had the opposite effect. Though he was used to being admired for his looks, the knowledge these men would soon be admiring his naked body
was another thing altogether. And while he loved playing with Eric, he frankly wasn’t sure he was ready to be intimate with these strangers. Why hadn’t he been more upfront with Eric? Why had he pretended to be ready when in his heart of hearts, he really wasn’t? Eric had assured him he’d be there every step of the way. He’d promised he wouldn’t give Johnny more than he could handle. He would have to trust Eric. Closing his eyes a moment, he took in a deep breath of air and blew it out slowly, willing himself to relax.

  “Take off your boots,” Eric said. Johnny obeyed, stuffing his socks into them. He allowed Eric to open his pants, sliding them down his legs like he was unpeeling a banana. “Take off your shirt,” Eric continued.

  As Johnny obeyed, he shivered. The room was warm but he could feel a slight draft that stiffened his nipples. His cock was limp, nerves keeping it down. Eric was busy removing things from his duffel bag. He brought the black leather chastity belt over, holding it in one hand as he fondled Johnny’s genitals with the other.

  “Oh, my nervous angel,” he crooned. “Please don’t be afraid, sweetheart. You are going to be the belle of the ball.” He kissed Johnny’s cheek and then crouched in front of his naked sub.

  Lightly he cupped Johnny’s balls in one hand as he slipped his lips over Johnny’s cock. His velvet tongue slid over the shaft, drawing a moan of pleasure from Johnny’s lips despite his nervous state. Nothing compared to the sweet burst of pleasure Eric’s mouth and hands could draw from him. His nerve endings responded quickly to Eric’s skillful, tender touch, making Johnny’s cock rise like a balloon filling with air.

  “Oh,” he whispered, pleasure at last overriding nerves. “Oh, god, Eric. Oh, Jesus…”

  Eric continued to suckle and kiss his lover’s cock and balls for a few minutes more. Johnny felt the delicious rise of pressure inside his balls that signaled an impending orgasm. He was breathing hard, his head back, his hands on his Master’s head, fingers entwined in Eric’s thick, shiny hair.