Paid to Be Shared

by Romilly King

  Birch took another sip of his coffee, “I don’t need to scene,” he said, “But I want to, with you. We haven’t scened yet, and so that makes me a little nervous.”

  Ivo looked questioningly at him, “Like you want to get it out the way, see what I’m like?”

  “Sort of,” said Birch, “As a Venditor in a new contract, I have to hope I can get it right, and when we go slow I can get antsy because I want to start being what you need.” He looked up at Ivo under his eyelashes, “It’s okay, I’m fine, I’m just finding my feet. It’s not like if I’ve been bad,”

  “Bad?” queried Ivo.

  “Yes, like if I’ve failed to make my Emptor pleased in some way, that feels awful.”

  “Oh, I can’t imagine you fail often,” Ivo said.

  Birch smiled, “I’m lucky,” he said, “I’ve never had a significant drop, thank God, but even disapproval can knock us. If we’re deep into our submissive headspace every little thing is amplified; if you look at us a certain way, or fail to say something we thought was routine, it gets blown up until it's all we can think about.” He shrugged, “Praise is a narcotic, and even the hint that our Emptor might be angry, well, it's like being slapped.

  “Sorry, I talk so much about being a sub, I tend to brain vomit stuff on new Emptores because I want everyone to be on the same page.”

  “I understand,” said Ivo, “And frankly it’s fascinating,”

  He poured Birch another mug of coffee. “How about you finished your coffee and get yourself something to eat. I think fruit and yogurt will be sufficient. Then go and take a shower and come to my rooms.”

  Ivo noted that Birch perked up significantly at the list of instructions.

  “I’d like you to knock on the door and then kneel outside,” Ivo ordered, “We won’t be scening, but I would like to always be naked in my rooms, so when I give you permission to enter you will do so quietly, strip quickly – I don’t need a show – fold your clothes and come and kneel beside my desk.”

  Birch was nodding as Ivo spoke.

  “We’ll spend some time together, get to know each other, will that make you feel better?”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Birch smirked at him.

  Ivo stood, he pulled himself up, he allowed the Dominance to settle over him and show through, it felt good, “Don’t be cheeky Birch,” he said sternly, “I’m not fond of brats, and I have a heavy hand,”

  Birch ducked his head, “Sorry, Ivo,” he said.

  “Good boy,” Ivo leaned over and pressed a kiss to Birch’s short hair, “I’ll look forward to seeing you shortly.”

  He left the room without a backward glance. He needed to reassure the boy, but he was determined to keep him on his toes too, which was part of the fun.

  Half an hour later, there was a light knock on Ivo’s door. Ivo stayed at his desk and continued reading the article he had up on his screen. He let Birch wait outside the door for precisely five minutes before he called out for him to enter.

  He was pleased that when he entered the room, Birch did so silently, he stripped efficiently and padded over to Ivo’s side before he sunk to his knees on the pillow that Ivo had placed on the white floorboards.

  Ivo was very aware that he was something of a perfectionist and prone to overplanning, but he knew what he liked, and he wanted his first scene with Birch to be uninterrupted and leisurely. The disruption to his plans earlier in the week had pissed off his Dominant with its desire for total control.

  He knew he needed to now work himself slowly back into the right headspace, and so a full-on scene was totally out of the question, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t spend time with this adorable Submissive and pry a little further into his way of thinking. Ivo was the kind of Dominant that fucked with the head as much as the body!

  Eventually, Ivo turned to Birch, “You look nice knelt there,” he said, “But I think I would like you up on my lap,” Birch’s eyes sparkled, and Ivo smiled at him.

  “We’re mainly going to talk, but I feel the need for contact so please come up here,” He pushed his chair back from his desk and laughed at the alacrity with which Birch scrambled to his feet and wriggled onto Ivo’s lap.

  Birch wasn’t small, but Ivo was a solidly built man of just over six feet, and he held Birch easily against his chest. Birch sighed happily and nuzzled into Ivo’s neck, his sweet breath warm on Ivo’s skin.

  “Good boy,” Ivo cooed, and he felt Birch’s muscles go lax as he relaxed in Ivo’s arms. His compact muscled body was a pleasant warm weight on him, and Ivo stroked a firm hand down Birch’s arm, and Birch shivered beautifully.

  Ivo noticed the skin of Birch’s shoulders was a little pink, and his skin was obviously sensitive, “You’re not in pain, are you?” he asked.

  “Oh no,” Birch replied, “Not at all, and I have a high pain tolerance anyway, you tended to develop one when ballet was your life for so long,”

  Ivo hummed, “Yes, I was going to ask you about that, ballet is a particular fascination of mine,”

  “Really?” said Birch, he tilted his head to look up at Ivo, “I thought so when you said you had seen Polunin dance, but I wasn’t sure,”

  “Yes, it’s been an interest of mine for as long as I can remember,” Ivo took Birch’s hand in his and played with the fingers, stretching them out, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go on to a long term career,” he said.

  Birch shrugged, “I pretty much knew for years, I was just hoping against hope really, once I got to thirteen and I stopped growing up and started to fill out. No matter how hard I trained, my bones just didn’t have the elongation necessary. I could lengthen the muscles, but the underlying structure was wrong.” He looked sad, and Ivo’s heart broke for him, for the boy who had wanted to please his instructors and who had failed through no fault of his own.

  “It would have been a different story back in the nineteenth century,” Ivo said, “Back then dancers came in a much wider variety of physical shapes. Roles were written and choreographed for specific types of dancer, not for individuals.”

  Birch looked curiously at him, “The idea was called emploi, and everybody fell into some classification. There were the danseurs nobles, the danseurs classiques, who were the pure, clean dancing technicians. Then there were the character danseurs, and finally, the grotesques, who had the most fun of all, because they got to do all the oddball parts with occasional ventures into near-gymnastic physicality,”

  Birch looked fascinated.

  “You would have found your place within any company back then, by virtue of hard work and dedication to the craft, not just on account of form.”

  Ivo ran a hand along Birch’s solidly muscled thigh, he pressed his hand against the muscle and Birch co-operatively opened his legs. His cock lay soft and curled against his bare groin, and Ivo cupped it in his hand and toyed with it.

  “Today's male dancer is highly challenged,” he said, “You are expected to be a jack of all trades, a General Purpose Dancer so to speak. There is no room for the individual,” Birch sighed and rolled his head back on Ivo’s shoulder, “I think ballet lost something in abandoning the emploi strategy,” he said, “It took a lot of the character away, and you,” he tapped the head of Birch’s rapidly plumping cock, “have a lot of character!”

  “It hasn’t ended so badly,” Birch said, “I got to become a Venditor,”

  “Did you ever consider anything else after you left the ballet?” Ivo asked.

  Birch’s brow furrowed, “I didn’t at the time,” he said, “I may in the future, but ballet leaves a certain legacy that you have to work through.”

  He was totally relaxed in Ivo’s arms, and Ivo thrilled at the way Birch both responded to him physically and opened up to him personally.

  “Ballet takes your life,” Birch explained, “You have no choice but to try and become a professional dancer because, after all the years of training, you aren’t equipped for anything else.

  “Then, if you don’t make it, you
find yourself standing there at twenty years of age with no experience other than ballet, and no useful skills, and you wonder what the fuck to do.

  “You have been trained to see your body as a tool, and so it was natural for me to look at my body and ask what else it could do. So I applied to become a Venditor,” he smiled up at Ivo, “I applied to Delphic and they ran the tests, and the tests saw me, the submissive me I already guessed was there, and they trained me, and so here I am, still using my body, still very much in my body. Which is very similar to ballet.”

  Ivo felt his heart swell at the open trust and confidence Birch displayed in telling him these things, and the boy’s attitude towards his own body chimed very much with Ivo’s own.

  “I’d love to see you dance for me,” he told Birch.

  Birch blushed, “Maybe one day,” he said.

  Ivo shifted in the seat, “I have something for you,” he said. He maneuvered Birch upright and leaned over and opened the drawer of his desk.

  He pulled the flat black box from within it and handed it to Birch. Birch held the box in his hands and looked curiously at Ivo. “Open it,” Ivo said.

  Birch opened the box, and when he saw the white leather collar that rested on the emerald green tissue inside he lit up, “For me?” he asked, and Ivo nodded and his heart swelled further

  Chapter Sixteen - Griffin

  Griffin pushed his glasses up on his forehead and rubbed his eyes, the spreadsheet in front of him was a blur of colored columns, and it wasn’t holding his attention. He wondered where Ivo was. The house felt quiet without Birch, just one short weekend in, and he was already used to the boy’s presence.

  He closed his laptop and stared out at the darkness beyond the kitchen window. He couldn’t face any more work tonight. Since when did Sunday night turn into admin night? Surely Sunday night should be watching rubbish tv on the sofa with Ivo and a sated sub lying across their laps.

  He shook his head. Jesus, talk about domestic BDSM bliss. This last week had been nothing but a total revelation to him. Not because of what they had done with Birch, but because of what they hadn’t done. Neither of them had fucked Birch. Ivo hadn’t even scened properly with the boy – for a certified sadist, Ivo was proving remarkably reluctant to get his hands on Birch. He wondered what was holding them back.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Ivo’s voice in his ear made him jump.

  “Fuck, are you trying to give me a heart attack!” he snapped.

  “If I did I could fix it,” said Ivo calmly, “Probably with a teaspoon and an open mind,”

  Griffin couldn’t help smiling, “You are such a dick,” he said.

  “That’s Doctor Dick to you,” Ivo opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of fresh-squeezed peach juice that they had picked up from the farmers market that afternoon.

  “I was just thinking about Birch,” Griffin said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I am amazed that we haven’t made utter pigs of ourselves with him. I thought we would go nuts as soon as we got a Venditor, but we haven’t,”

  “Yes, we’ve been remarkably mature about our boy toy,” said Ivo and drank the juice straight from the carton.

  “Seriously, though,” said Griffin, “I did think, given the state we were in, that we would have both gone a little harder than we have.”

  Ivo put down the carton and looked at Griffin. He knew what Griffin was obliquely referring to, and he looked rueful.

  He leaned on the kitchen worktop and looked at Griffin steadily, “I know things were bad not so long ago,” he said, “And I know that we both got out of hand that night, and I’m sorry it happened, but I think that was an anomaly, and we did something about it. It didn’t mean we were going to pounce on our Venditor and fuck him into next week at the first opportunity just because that side of our natures had been dammed up for so long.”

  Griffin rubbed his jaw, he still remembered the feel of Ivo’s fist connecting with his jaw, he thought it was broken Ivo had hit him so hard. That night nine months ago, when their frustrations had boiled over into actual violence, had made them both sit down and decide that they needed a Venditor and urgently, or their marriage wouldn’t last.

  “I think that despite our deeper natures, we are both civilized men,” Ivo went on, “Hell we go to Farmer’s Markets,” he pushed the peach juice towards Griffin, “We collect antiques, we cook with kale,” Griffin managed to smile at him, and Ivo reached out and cupped his face, “I was so sorry the moment I threw that punch,”

  “I know,” Griffin pressed a kiss to his husband’s palm, “Honestly, I was as worried about your hands as I was about my jaw! And I had basically been a total cunt.”

  “No excuses,” said Ivo evenly, “And for what it’s worth, I think the reason we have not, as you say, made pigs of ourselves with Birch, is because we don’t need to. He isn’t going anywhere, and he’s so perfect, he enjoys what we are doing, so there is no rush, we can just relax into it.”

  Griffin thought for a moment, “Yes,” he said, “I know what you mean, there isn’t that boiling under my skin anymore, there’s a gentle simmer sure, but it’s nice, it’s easy, it’s satisfying.”

  Ivo nodded, “It feels like slowly wading into a warm ocean rather than throwing yourself into an icy sea. I want to luxuriate in it because the pressure is off,”

  Griffin understood.

  “Come on,” said Ivo, “Let’s go to bed because while I might not have fucked our beautiful boy yet I have plans for him, and I want to whisper them into your ear while I jerk you off.”

  Griffin’s breath hitched, “Fuck, yes,” he said. He slid off the kitchen stool and grabbed Ivo’s hand, “That’s something I want to make a pig of myself with right now.”

  Twenty minutes later, Griffin was a panting mess of desire on the bed. Flat on his back with Ivo sitting across his thighs, he watched through hooded eyes as his husband held both of their cocks in his exquisite hands and jerked them slowly.

  “Tell me,” Griffin panted, “Tell me what you’re going to do to him,”

  “I’m going to put him in panties,” growled Ivo, “His body is perfect for them. I’m going to buy something pretty and lacy and make him wear them. He’s going to be so turned on by the feel of slippery satin wrapped around his cock,”

  “God,” Griffin thrust his hips ups, his cock sliding against the steel silk of Ivo’s erection, held in his tight grip, “Then what?”

  “I’m going to play with his cock through his pretty panties, make him mess up the satin. I’m going to suck him through them, make them soaking wet, and then I’m going to fuck his mouth until he comes in them,”

  Griffin’s orgasm was racing towards him. He looked up at Ivo. Ivo was fucking into his fist now, his hand clasping and releasing and his thumb swiping over the sensitive heads of his and Griffin’s cocks. Griffin was mesmerized by the sight of his and Ivo’s cocks squashed together in his fist, slick and shiny with lube and precome, flushed red, and swollen.

  “Oh God yes,” Ivo threw his head back, “I’m going to choke him on my cock, and he’s going to love it so much he’ll cream himself in his panties, and I’ll make him suck them clean, and he’ll thank me,”

  “Fuck,” Griffin’s orgasm punched through him at the thought of Ivo pressing come soaked panties between Birch’s cock swollen lips.

  Ivo groaned, his cock jerked, and Griffin watched as his hot come spilled out to join Griffin’s.

  “Wow,” Griffin gasped, “That was fucking intense,”

  Ivo looked down at him and smirked, “God yes, wasn’t it,” He flopped down beside Griffin on the bed, “I think this is going to be a good week,” he said.

  Chapter Seventeen - Ivo

  “You’re on time, good,” Ivo said when Birch entered the kitchen, “Please leave your bag here and follow me,” He glanced back over his shoulder and smiled widely at Birch, “I have you all to myself today. I have been really looking forward to this,”

  Birch f
ollowed him to the orangery where the late afternoon sun shone through the high windows, and the air was full of the scent of flowers and grass.

  Birch wore the usual garb of someone who had danced too long, shrouded in layers. Pale grey sweat pants and a singlet covered by a soft, worn, and shapeless t-shirt, topped with a loose shirt that fluttered around him, giving glimpses of muscled shoulders and smooth skin. He managed, in the way of many in his former field, to make it look good, purely by the way he moved, effortlessly graceful.

  He made Ivo feel formal and dominant in his black suit pants, and crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms. It was a nice contrast that he intended to highlight even more.

  Ivo had moved a single rattan armchair to the center of the orangery. Solidly constructed with a deep cushioned seat and a low back, it was a simple but flexible prop as far as he was concerned, and he intended to make full use of it. A fully-equipped playroom was a luxury, but sometimes the most simple of accouterments delivered the most exciting results.

  “I watched a few dance videos this morning,” he said to Birch, “And I had the idea of seeing you in poses reminiscent of dance.”

  Birch tilted his head to one side, “You want me to dance for you?”

  “One day, yes,” Ivo replied, “But not today, today is about exploring how your body stretches at my direction,”

  Birch stood obediently and waited for further instruction, his eyes fixed on Ivo. “Please get underdressed and put these on,” Ivo handed Birch a soft pair of panties, and the boy took them almost reverently.

  While Birch undressed, Ivo called up a playlist on his phone. He sat in the rattan chair and crossed his legs, waiting patiently for Birch. When the boy walked towards him in his pretty panties, Ivo didn’t think he had ever seen anything more alluring.

  The cut of the lingerie enhanced Birch’s intensely masculine body, and from the way he moved it was clear that the boy liked the feel of them. The panties had a shiny, smooth satin front panel and were a delicate floral pattern in pastel pink, purple, and white. The Brazilian cut suited Birch’s thick muscled body, and the lace edge to the legs was a subtle counterpoint to the well-filled satin front, which Ivo knew had very little give in it and which now held Birch’s cock firmly in place. The cute lingerie lace waistband and satin bow on the front again only added to Birch’s charm.