Tenderly Wicked

by Katerina Ross

  For a moment, Max was at a loss for what to say. I’m not going to hurt you? But wasn’t that the point of their encounter, hurting and getting hurt?

  “Remember what I told you yesterday,” he said after a pause. “I said I’d take care of you. I might cause you pain, and rest assured I will, but not damage.” He suddenly had a clear vision of someone else beating his redhead with a belt buckle. “The marks on your back—were they—”

  “Uh-huh.” Vadim didn’t expand on this, and Max wasn’t sure he was welcome to pry.

  “It must have been nasty,” he said lamely.

  Vadim sighed, an exhale ghosting over Max’s skin. “I … provoked it. My fault. Can we just go on? If you still want it?”

  Without answering, Max took both Vadim’s hands into his and gently guided them back to the headboard. Vadim reassumed his position most willingly, like he was hoping ostentatious obedience would earn him forgiveness and make Max forget what had happened. His face was a picture of resolve, and Max suddenly couldn’t remember whether he’d mentioned he wasn’t going to use his belt at all.

  He cleared his throat. “I think we’ll manage without any implements this time. This won’t be too painful. Though,” he added as an afterthought, lightly moving his fingers along Vadim’s arm, “it doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you. You’ve given yourself to me, but are you really obedient?” He tickled the delicate armpit, and Vadim involuntary bucked.

  “See what I mean?” Max chided, with exaggerated austerity. “I tell you to stay still, and you don’t even try to obey my order. Not exactly perfect behavior.” He moved his hands across Vadim’s chest and tugged at his nipples.

  “I’m sorry,” Vadim gasped.

  “I’m sure you are,” Max relented, secretly amused by how easy it was to elicit the right reaction from him. “That’s why I’m giving you another chance. Remember that I’ve told you to stay perfectly still, no matter what. Let’s test you.”

  He tightened his hold on Vadim’s nipples, twisting them sharply. Vadim sucked in a breath, but didn’t arch his back. His hands clutched the headboard in a desperate grip.

  “That’s a good lad,” Max said. He leaned in and swirled his tongue around one of the abused nubs, lapped at the smooth areola, and gave in to the temptation to catch the nipple in his teeth and pull. He was rewarded with a hoarse moan.

  Max pulled away and surveyed Vadim with satisfaction. “Much better. I own you, you said so yourself, and you should remember it. I own you to do as I please, and you’re going to take everything I give you.” He moved a hand down Vadim’s taut belly. “Be it pleasure—” A feather light stroke along his cock, which twitched and rose up. “Or pain.” A light but sensitive slap on the lengthening shaft. “If it’s getting too intense, tell me, safeword out. We’ll take a break. But otherwise, I expect your complete obedience.”

  Max gave the shaft another encouraging stroke, bringing it to half mast again, and moved away from it, both palms now skimming along Vadim’s hipbones. Then he dragged his fingertips along the skin of Vadim’s inner thighs, delicate and smooth with a fine dusting of light hair. His sub’s breathing became ragged.

  “So sensitive,” murmured Max, pleased with his reaction. “Since you belong to me, I’ll be studying your body as long as I please, and you’ll allow it. I like to know exactly what I have.”

  Max took his time, touching, stroking, idly outlining the curvatures of Vadim’s strained muscles, pinching now and then, and sometimes leaning over to lick and bite. He slowly mapped the front of Vadim’s body, but kept away from the most erogenous zones. It was fascinating, the way the flesh blanched under a hard nail, and how the nipples hardened into little pink knots. It didn’t take long before Vadim began to tremble, unable to predict where and how he’d be touched next, waiting for gentle caresses alternating with sharp, sudden bursts of pain. His cock had completely hardened, and it sported a clear drop of pre-cum at the end.

  At last, Max took pity on him. Well, almost. His fingers now moved to more sensitive spots. He palmed Vadim’s balls, appreciating their solid weight, and stroked one finger along the underside of his shaft, slowly tracing the vein there. It must have taken Vadim all his willpower not to buck his hips. He only growled in desperation. Hyper-sensitive there, are we?

  “You’re doing well so far,” Max praised him again. “How about a reward?”

  Sitting between Vadim’s spread thighs, Max found the puckered orifice and began circling it around the outside, unhurriedly, then gently pressed into the center, not quite entering yet. “Too tense. Let’s see what we can do about it.” He backed away, leaned in, and swirled his pointed tongue around the hole. Vadim yelped. Loud.

  “Hold this position. Don’t move,” Max reminded him. The task was hard to accomplish, especially when Max started licking him open. Vadim was almost shaking and there were humming sounds coming from deep in his throat, but he stayed obediently still.

  When the time to add some lube finally came, the strong muscle parted, albeit reluctantly, and accepted first one finger, then another. Max crooked them upwards, toward the side of the cock, to rub against the lump-shaped prostate. “So good,” he chanted, “from the outside and from the inside. Velvety.” Vadim was panting, and his lips were parted. Max seized the opportunity to slip the fingers of his other hand into Vadim’s mouth. “Suck.” He felt Vadim moan around them. It was like having him from both ends simultaneously. A heady feeling.

  “I could do this for ages,” Max said dreamily. It probably sounded like a threat, because the expression that crossed Vadim’s face was priceless. Well, Max wasn’t really that cruel, though the idea was tempting. Vadim looked so gorgeously debauched now. His cock drooled copiously. Max indulged him with a generous swipe of his tongue along its length. “Not moving includes not coming,” he clarified with wicked sternness. “Until I let you. Tell me if you’re close, so that I can stop. I trust you to warn me. Do you understand? Speak out.”

  Vadim’s “da-ah”—an anguished “yes”—came out almost as a whine. His features were contorted in the agony of pure need, now devoid of fear and restrictions. Max didn’t have to see his own face in the mirror to know he looked exceedingly smug.

  Chapter Three

  The Late Summer Delights

  The studio was dimly lit and only the tiny lamps over the countertop of the small kitchenette were turned on. Vadim had said he could stay for the night again, and for the whole day after that too, so Max enjoyed a leisurely evening, excited by the marvelous prospects that lay ahead of him. This time, he kept Vadim appropriately nude, and even kneeling by his side, at least while Max was cooking. Max was dressed in his jeans and a faded t-shirt, and it probably made Vadim feel the more exposed, which was the point.

  It was a smart deal. Max had let Vadim smoke a cigarette on the balcony—Vadim had claimed he’d needed it desperately—but he had to, um, redeem himself for practicing such a bad habit. It had been fun, watching Vadim hastily having a smoke, clad only in his chinos and sneakers, shoulder-blades protruding as he’d been leaning over the rusty balcony railing, so boyish and vulnerable. Had he been wondering what redemption would be like? If so, good. Anticipation should be a part of the pleasure after all.

  When Vadim had closed the balcony door behind him, the command to undress and kneel hadn’t seemed to surprise him.

  Max worried Vadim might get too edgy, having to move around the apartment in this state of undress. He kept the lighting soft on purpose, and he was ready to put it all to an end if Vadim showed any signs of reluctance and discomfort. He wasn’t sure how strong he could push for it to remain a game, and not an actual degrading ordeal.

  At first, Vadim had been shooting quick side-glances at the uncurtained windows, unsure if someone could look into the room from the outside, despite the sheltering presence of the huge ash tree. But as far as Max could tell, it was more arousing than distressful.

  So you’re just a little bit of an exhibitionist. Max smiled,
secretly amused, and continued to lightly stir the sauce, ruffling Vadim’s tousled hair with a free hand at the same time. Vadim shuffled closer on his knees to lean into the caress, and Max’s smile broadened. It was pleasant to feel a warm naked body pressing to his leg. And even more pleasant to guess and learn what made this body tick.

  Max dipped a finger into the sauce and held it to Vadim’s mouth. “Not too spicy?”

  Vadim darted his tongue out, slowly licked the finger clean, and then gently sucked on it.

  “I suppose not, then.” Max nodded curtly. He was looking forward to supper, to feeding Vadim morsels from his plate, however trite this might be, and to many other things, too.

  It was a quiet evening in, like they’d been together for ages. Like they were a couple, perfectly tuned to each other. Max’s apartment was nothing like an SM dungeon, but with the lights dimmed, it looked quite appropriate for whatever they were doing.

  Max tried to suppress the treacherous thought that this harmony might end any moment when it came to hardcore SM action.

  While the meal cooked—a spiced, ethnic finger food similar to the so-called shaurma sold in stalls around Moscow metro stations—Max sat sprawled in an armchair watching TV. An old Soviet version of “Sherlock Holmes” played, the classics so frequently repeated that he’d already seen this series. That fact made it less distracting and so he could monitor the gas stove now and then. Vadim sat between his spread legs, on the carpet, comfortably leaning against his thigh.

  “May I stay for the night again?” Vadim inquired, leaning into the touch as Max absently combed a hand through his hair.

  “Sure.”

  But a brief answer wasn’t enough. Vadim pressed further. “Not too inconvenient for you?”

  “Hmm. I very much hope it will be. I could punish you for it then,” Max responded deadpan, suppressing a grin. Vadim’s hesitancy was endearing.

  A pause, and then another question. “Would you let me sleep in your bed?”

  This one took Max by surprise. He huffed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Vadim shrugged, not looking up. “Well, you might want to keep your subs on the floor. So that they would know their place. Some Doms prefer it this way. You didn’t seem to mind me sleeping with you, but maybe for the first time only?”

  “Would you like that? Spending a night on the floor?” Max had reasonable doubts about it being a good plan.

  Vadim cringed. “Not exactly. But I would. If you want me to.”

  Max wasn’t sure if the rules of their game allowed him to force Vadim into something he seemingly wouldn’t want—was Vadim expecting that of him or wasn’t he?—but an alternate idea crossed his mind. “You could spend the night in my bed. But there will be a condition. You’ll spend it in bondage.”

  Vadim agreed quickly, as if he was sure Max would change his mind.

  As the minutes ticked away, Max actually considered it. Bondage was a hot fantasy, but in reality, it was so easy to appear clumsy when fumbling and wrestling with an unruly rope. And so much could go wrong. A poorly placed knot or a rope cinched too tight might cause numbness, muscle cramps, nerve damage, sprains and strains, and also leave unpleasant marks on the skin.

  Max became more and more nervous about what he had in mind, so when they finally got to settling for the night, he was all wound up. He had everything he needed except for courage. Some time ago he’d bought a nylon clothesline for purposes rather different than intended by the manufacturer, slightly embarrassed and wondering if the bored girl at the register had guessed the true reason for his purchase. He’d cut the rope in different lengths and melted all the ends with a hot knife so they wouldn’t fray. He’d tested if the rope would abrade one’s skin by running it quickly across his arm. It had turned out to be soft and smooth. He’d stored it neatly coiled in his closet and practiced tying different types of knots, dreaming of the times he would have someone to show. So he’d had some practice, but only by himself. Now the time for the real action had come. Vadim, naked on his bed, was offering himself for experiments.

  Max chose two lengths of rope, tied slip knots on each of them, pulled Vadim’s hands through the loops like they were handcuffs, and cinched the ropes, so they wouldn’t feel too loose on Vadim’s wrists, and yet not too tight either. All right. Perfect.

  To tie Vadim’s hands to the headboard, each one separately, Max chose the highwayman hitch, with one end that would stay when pulled and the other that would allow quick release if necessary. You just needed to tug it to make the knot fall apart.

  The task was relatively easy. Max made the first bight and brought it around the headboard pole, and then another one, on the standing end, which he drew though the previous loop. After that, he had to make a bight on the quick release end, pass it through the second one, and tighten the hitch by pulling the standing end. Done!

  Vadim tugged on the loose end of the knot, and it fell apart. “You might want to tie me up more securely, huh?”

  Max was startled. “But they’re meant to do that. If you ever feel the need, you can get free. You’re staying tied up because you choose to. Because I tell you to.”

  Without saying a word, Vadim put his wrists back in position so that Max could tie him to the headboard again, and so Max did, in the same escapable manner, wondering if what had just happened meant Vadim had never been tied like that before. Did he prefer rougher play? Did he like having no choice? If so, wasn’t it better to give him what he wanted? Max, however, felt too insecure to initiate something like that. Something more violent and risky.

  Luckily, Vadim seemed quite satisfied with what Max gave him. He wriggled under the duvet, testing the length of his ropes, and finally snuggled in close to Max, their flanks and thighs cozily pressed together. After that, everything went blissfully quiet. Max lay unmoving, his breathing slowly attuned to Vadim’s.

  There was the whole Sunday they could spend together, and wasn’t it so much more than Max had been expecting? He should have felt completely happy. And yet, a vague uneasiness clawed his chest from the inside as he thought of Vadim leaving after that.

  “I want to keep him,” Max whispered to himself, surprised by how fierce his wish was in the soft darkness and shared warmth. “Let me keep him.”

  He wasn’t certain he deserved this. He’d managed to hide his incompetence for now, but would his luck last for long?

  ****

  In the next week, his browsing history progressed from mildly debauched to absolutely wanton. The amount of sex toys he considered buying and putting to use would have amazed, if not scandalized, even those with a vast experience in the field of unconventional pleasures. Anal beads, cock rings, all manners of butt plugs, even expendable ones. Those sorts of things.

  Max wasn’t sure he had the nerve to walk into an adult shop and buy something from his wish list, especially given the only adult shop he’d visited in Moscow was a rather dubious establishment in a glass stall, and a grimly looking salesman in there hardly knew where all the sickly-colored objects on the dusty shelves came from and what materials had been used to create them. Perhaps some stores with a more refined selection of sex gear did exist in the Russian capital too, along with shady ones, otherwise where would local enthusiasts purchase devices to their liking? But none that Max knew of. On the other hand, there was no particular need to search the city for well-hidden, tiny kiosks, considering the alternative possibilities of online shopping. It seemed a less awkward option, and besides, you could always check the reviews on the stuff you were about to buy.

  All this feverish Internet activity was caused by Vadim’s mischievous whisper as they parted. “Till next time. I’ll be thinking of it the whole week.”

  They agreed to meet the following Friday, and by Thursday, the waiting had become unbearable. Max hadn’t called Vadim earlier because he didn’t want to seem too pushy. He was glad Vadim had texted him first, right when he’d picked up his phone to compose an appropriately neutral message asking if
the Friday plans were still valid.

  Vadim: Do I stop by tomorrow?

  Was he getting impatient too? Max smiled and texted back.

  Max: Actually, I was planning to take you out on a date. How about we meet at the Vorobyovy gory station, around six-ish? Wear something casual.

  In the end, Max had again settled for something more or less mild. For now. He wanted to experiment, yes, but careful pushing and probing in order to find out his new lover’s limits and preferences was even more exciting, and it didn’t require any special equipment.

  Vorobyovy gory, literally “The Sparrow Hills”, was a park stretching along the Moskva River not far from the Moscow State University, and so the nearest metro station built into the lower level of a bridge, the only Moscow metro station with windows, was named for it. From the platform in its center you could stare through the glass walls on both sides and enjoy the views of the sluggish murky river clad in granite, the green slopes of Sparrow Hills Park on one side and the white circle of the Luzhniki Stadium, where the opening and closing ceremony for the 1980 Summer Olympics had taken place, on the other. It rose above the green mass of trees corroded with yellow speckles here and there—the first signs of approaching autumn.

  Max arrived ten or so minutes earlier, and while waiting, he happened to look at an electronic clock at the end of the platform at least a dozen times, nervous despite his best intentions to stay calm. When Vadim finally stepped out of a train—wide-open collar, rolled up sleeves, sunshine sparkles in his hair—Max glanced at the clock again. Twelve minutes past six.

  Vadim must have seen this, for he smiled apologetically. “Sorry. A quick detour home after work, to change clothes. I decided a suit wouldn’t pass for casual.”

  So he wore suits. An office worker? Some kind of manager?

  Max wasn’t sure if he could ask for details, thus turning their more or less anonymous arrangement into something more intimate. So he didn’t comment on it, just looked Vadim over from head to toe. “Hmm.”