by M. Q. Barber
Succeeded too well, in fact. His submissive deserved to be seen, to be flaunted. He envisioned escorting him to a gallery show, the concert hall, a proper dinner in public. Choosing Jay’s clothes himself from the skin out.
The only niggling concern was Jay’s insistence in granting Emma a title after he’d already explained. The result of misunderstanding, or an instinctive pull toward a female dominant over a male one?
Though it pricked, he made a mental note to consider appropriate fem-doms. A woman who’d treat Jay well. The desire might be temporary, a reaction to his poor treatment at Cal’s hands. If so, perhaps a few months spent with a mistress would fulfill those needs.
“The tie, especially.” Given that distance, Jay might develop greater perspective on their own relationship. Might come to see him as a potential master in truth rather than the centerpiece of his hero worship fantasies. “Are you making a statement, my boy?”
Jay toyed with his fork and tipped his head sideways. “Not if you don’t want me to, Master Henry.”
“But you had one in mind by choosing it, didn’t you?” Desire warmed his blood. Let the boy go in a few weeks. Be patient and watchful. See if Jay came back to him. Yes. Those things he might reasonably do without abrogating his responsibilities or forcing a relationship upon a confused novice.
“I wanted to match your eyes,” Jay whispered. “Mistress Emma said, she said expressing a wish wasn’t the same as making a statement. I’ll take it off if you want, Master Henry.”
“You’ll leave it on.” He picked up his fork, twirled the linguine, and speared a scallop. “When we go upstairs after dinner and strip off your lovely tailored suit and bare your beautiful body and play our game, you’ll wear your tie, my boy. My eyes are always on you.”
He met his submissive’s gaze with a piercing stare before he returned to his meal, appreciating the surge of confidence across the table. Jay sat taller. He smiled with increasing frequency.
Proffering the boy’s clean test results seemed a secondary pleasure, overshadowed by Jay’s obvious thrill at having accomplished an appropriate act of submission on his own initiative. Dangerous, to be so enamored with Jay’s willing attitude and eager rush to please.
“Get the door, please.”
Jay hustled ahead, carrying his own kit and his master’s. Rather than having him change downstairs, he’d had him collect their bags and follow him to the third floor, where he’d reserved the same private room. He’d done no preparation on the room this week, the better to have tasks for his submissive. And, of course, the better to enjoy the sight of the lithe young man scurrying about at his direction.
Closing the door behind them, he wasted no time. “Set the bags by the wall and strip to your undershorts and tie.”
Jay jumped to obey, unbuttoning his jacket and dropping his pants in an oddly coordinated dance. Shoes, slacks, coat and shirt piled in a heap on the floor.
“Fold them neatly, please. I’ll want my property to look as sharp when I allow him to leave as he did when I first saw him this evening.”
He removed his own jacket, folding it with a touch more ostentation than necessary, and concealed his gentle amusement at his student’s attentiveness. Jay copied his movements, dividing his gaze between his task and his master.
When Jay had a neat stack of clothes, Henry crooked his finger at him. “Come here and show me your tie.”
He loosened his own tie and unfastened the top two buttons on his shirt.
Jay’s gaze dropped to the revealed skin.
Grazing his submissive’s chest with his fingertips, he lifted the end of the tie. Fine weave. Vivid color.
A light tug on the tie prompted a gasp. Tugging again, as if by accident, resulted in a noticeable swallow and a gaze that skittered away as the boy trembled.
Suspicion confirmed, he spoke in an intimate whisper. “Jay.”
“Yes, Master Henry?” Nerves thinned his voice.
“Remind me of your safeword.”
“Tilt-A-Whirl, Master Henry.”
“Mm-hmm.” He slipped his fingers up the tie to the knot and scraped the fabric against the younger man. “When did we agree you were to use it?”
“If I’m too uncomfortable.” He took a quick breath. “Or gonna throw up.”
Stroking the base of the boy’s throat, Henry hummed agreement. Jay had well-defined bone structure, soft skin, and a heart beating like a mouse in an owl’s talons.
“Or if you feel uncertain, confused, scared, or unsafe.” He teased at the knot. “If I told you I intend to bind your wrists with this tie tonight, what would you say to me?”
Heavy, shuddering breaths answered him.
“Speak up,” he murmured. “Submission may not be equality, my sweet boy, but it is not silence, either. If I slipped this tie from your neck and began binding your hands, right now, what would you say to me?”
“I—I’d—I’d say Tilt-A-Whirl, Master Henry.” Shame laced his submissive’s timid delivery.
“Good boy.” He wound his arms around Jay and cradled him.
Jay’s reflexive clutch dug fingers into his back through his shirt.
“That’s precisely what you ought to say to any game you don’t wish to play.” He tucked Jay’s face against his neck and kissed the tip of his ear. “It’s hard to admit, isn’t it, my brave boy? When you want so badly to be ready for anything?”
Jay nodded, muffled agreement warming his neck.
“A boy with the courage to acknowledge his fears and limitations makes his master proud.” He rubbed his partner’s back. “Do you know why?”
Shaking his head, the younger man attempted an answer anyway. “ ’Cause you like to know things, Master Henry?”
He chuckled his appreciation for the earnest effort and squeezed his sub closer. “I do at that, my clever boy. But beyond that, an honest boy may overcome those fears. By telling his master the truth, he enables the master to fulfill his role caring for and guiding his boy.”
He allowed Jay another minute to cling to him before disengaging. “Go on and unroll the mat along the wall, please. We’ve games yet to play this evening.”
As Jay trotted across the room, Henry squatted beside the bags and unzipped his own.
Jay tugged the mat into place with ease. “I brought your sheets back like you asked, Master Henry. They’re in my bag. Do you want me to spread them out?”
“We’ll use these this week.” He pulled the new set from his bag and tossed them on the mat. Taken off his bed just this afternoon. “You may lay them out, yes.”
Lifting the first sheet, Jay pressed his face to the bundle. “Are they—can I. . . .”
“From my bed, and you’ll take them home with you tonight.”
Jay’s eyes widened over the top of the sheet.
Henry forced himself to hold back his smile, lest he appear patronizing. Delighting his submissive took so little effort. The basic needs for comfort and belonging, for rules and routine, dominated Jay’s emotional and psychological map. Yet every step was one in a delicate dance with a new partner.
“We’ll try a different sort of bondage tonight.” He reached into the bag again as Jay straightened the sheets. “If you become uncomfortable, I want you to find the courage to tell me so.”
He’d chosen a quick-release option as both a concession to Jay’s inexperience and a practical matter. Beyond providing an instant safety outlet if the younger man panicked, the looser, adjustable fit meant their game wouldn’t be rushed.
“Off with your shorts, and stand at ease in the middle of the play space.” If Mr. Kress enjoyed the snug support and sense of security, he might wear his new toy all night rather than being forced to remove it after twenty minutes or so. “Hands behind your back, please.”
Standing moderately still, Jay squeezed his hands together. The repetitive motion calmed him, perhaps. The word “bondage” had no doubt raised an alarm. Tensed his muscles, if nothing else, and given him a sculpted beaut
y in his rounded buttocks. A sore temptation.
“I won’t tie your hands, because I know what a good boy you can be. But you aren’t to touch yourself tonight, do you understand?” His hands would be on his submissive soon enough. After three weeks of nothing but self-gratification, Jay ought to be eager for the touch of another. “Your body belongs to me, and I won’t allow trespassing.”
“I understand, Master Henry.” Jay trembled.
He judged the response excitement rather than fear. Humiliation and degradation didn’t factor in Jay’s psychosexual makeup, and bondage and pain might be too frightening for now, but possessiveness tied the boy in happy knots all the same.
Circling his property, he assessed arousal. Jay’s slight flush and increased respiration attested to his heightened interest, but his erect cock presented a problem. Not an insurmountable one, thanks to the toy he’d chosen, but semi-hard or flaccid would be easier to work with if he didn’t want him shooting off before they’d even begun.
“If your fingers go near your cock tonight, I’ll be forced to punish you. A disobedient boy doesn’t deserve to sleep on his master’s sheets. He’ll have no homework to busy his hands, because his hands will have offended his master. How sad that would be for the boy, hmm?”
“Very sad, Master Henry.” Jay’s erection flagged. “I don’t want to be that boy.”
Perfect. He knelt and took his submissive in hand. Ignoring Jay’s excited gasp, he worked fast to secure cock and balls in their proper place and adjust the strap before his student hardened again. Careful work, to ensure he didn’t tangle hair or pinch flesh in a painful way rather than a pleasurable one.
Rising to his feet, he studied the overall effect.
Magnificent.
Contradictory desires warred in him to throw open the door and show off his delicious pet for public admiration or hide him away as an object for his lust and his alone. His cock ached with his desire to mark his territory, bathe the younger man in ejaculate and press his claim.
Each urge he locked with care behind a polite veneer of neutral interest. “Have you worn a cock ring before, my boy?”
Black fabric stretched around the base of Jay’s cock in a narrow sleeve and split his balls like dangling weights to either side. The snap-closure strap rested against his body. The effect was more akin to compression undergarments than a lovely steel or glass ring set, but testing Jay’s enjoyment required slow, patient work.
At the continued silence, he looked up and choked back a laugh. Adorable dishevelment and wonder greeted him, the loose tie swinging from Jay’s neck as he tipped his head and gazed at his cock. Each time he moved for a better view, the tie swung forward with him. The novelty held young Mr. Kress spellbound, if perhaps frustrated by the obstruction. Not the reaction of a seasoned wearer.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ ” he murmured.
Jay jerked his head. “I’m sorry, Master Henry. I’ve never worn anything like this. What did you ask me?”
Shaking his head, he smiled his reassurance. “How does it feel? Not too tight, I trust.”
“Tight, but nice. It’s all there, you know?”
“Yes, I can see it’s all there.” He nodded toward the now-full erection projecting from his submissive’s groin. The cock ring held the angle lower, thrust out and away from the slim abdomen like an offering to his master.
Jay laughed, bright and playful.
Henry’s heart sang. A bit of bondage the boy hadn’t explored yet. From this gentle introduction, Jay might find a lifelong joy.
“I mean it’s like, umm, pressure, but. . . .”
He waited. Better to let Jay finish his thought himself and obtain a clearer picture of what he enjoyed about the experience.
“Like squeezing with my fist except not my fist, but I feel it.” A happy bewilderment overtook Jay’s face. “It makes me think about my homework.”
Humming encouragement, he traced the ridge along the underside of Jay’s cock. Flesh danced at his touch. Pre-come beaded at the tip.
“Your fist but not your fist. An excellent description, as this sleeve is not an extension of your hand but mine.” He splayed his fingers and rubbed his palm lower, cupping Jay’s balls. “My property held secure in my grip, safe and protected but accessible to me whenever I wish to play.”
An apt description of the young man under his protection even now. He wouldn’t allow this boy to be used and hurt again.
“If you’re a very good boy tonight”—he stepped in close—“I’ll show you how to don and remove the ring yourself and allow you to take it home.”
Jay strained toward him.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He massaged Jay’s shaft with a slight squeeze. “To feel my hand on you at night as you lie in my sheets and find your pleasure?”
A whimpering moan preceded his affirmation. “Yes, Master Henry.”
“On your knees.” He stepped back to give his partner room. “Waiting pose.”
Jay knelt in a fluid, graceful motion, but once on his knees he waited in awkward silence. Rather than sitting back on his heels, he’d stopped like a penitent soul at a prayer bench. He’d taken to his at-ease posture with no trouble, and he’d dropped like a stone into a waiting pose on their first night in the salon, yet he hesitated now.
“Do you know waiting pose?”
He must, after playing for so many months, with so many dominants. Impossible for him not to have encountered a dominant who expected it of his or her subs.
“No, Master Henry.” His student glanced up with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. Am I on my knees wrong? I can do better.”
“You cannot do what you have not learned. How convenient for both of us that teaching you is my privilege.” Laying a hand on Jay’s shoulder, he gave a gentle push. “On your heels, and spread your knees wider, please. Back straight. Present your submission with pride befitting the gift it is.”
Jay startled under his hand as he assumed the proper pose. “Oh, yes, I know this pose, Master Henry. I’m sorry I lied. I didn’t know it had a name.”
“That’s not a lie, my boy.” He scratched the nape of Jay’s neck with steady fingers. “How did you know it before?”
The silence in the room chilled his skin.
Jay ducked his head. “ ‘Get on your knees, slut, and wait for me to want you.’ ” He dragged the words from his throat with all the enthusiasm of a child sent to bed without dessert. “And the paddle or a flogging, sometimes, when I wasn’t fast enough.”
Crushing his teeth together, he breathed slow and even through his nose. He’d get Victor to make inquiries. Find out who had played with the boy and make certain none of them touched him again.
Misunderstanding or deliberate sadism, it made no difference. Jay hadn’t known to articulate his needs, and the dominants he’d agreed to serve had barreled ahead with their own ideas of entertainment without checking on his emotional readiness.
“What a terribly lengthy and non-descriptive name for a position you imbue with such grace and beauty.” He forced lightness into his tone. “That won’t suit us at all. When you are in your waiting pose, you’re to attend to my voice, to answer my questions and to await the rewards your good behavior will bring.”
He crouched behind the younger man. Sleek, rounded shoulders fit his palms to perfection. He breathed across Jay’s ear and smiled at the squirming hips in response.
“You needn’t wait for me to want you,” he murmured. “You may be assured I do so no matter what position I place you in. You are my good boy, and you please me with every sweet smile, every pleading whimper, and every wriggle of desire.”
Jay shuddered, his sweet curving bottom bouncing against the upturned soles of his feet.
Henry nuzzled his partner’s neck, nudging at the tie with his nose. Whatever else she had done, Emma had given Jay the courage to wear an outer sign of his inner fantasies. “You wanted to please your dominants, isn’t that so?”
�
�Yes, Master Henry.” Jay nodded in a full-body ripple.
“But did you want them to yell at you, sweet boy?” The more often Jay articulated or otherwise expressed his desires and rejected the games he didn’t wish to play, the more confidence he would have in negotiation and the safer he would be. “To offer you pain for your lovely service to them?”
“No.” Jay stated his dislike in a firm, clear voice without hesitation.
Henry ran his hands down the younger man’s arms to his thighs. Relief and pride buoyed his arousal. Stroking Jay’s thighs, he peppered his neck with kisses. “No?”
“I want to give pleasure, Master Henry.” Jay leaned back, seeking.
He pressed forward to lend support and hummed encouragement.
“But I don’t want the anger and the yelling.” Jay gained strength and volume. Conviction. “I don’t want someone telling me I’m a disgusting slut who should be grateful for what they’re giving me. I am grateful.”
“I know you are,” he soothed. “You’re a polite boy. An eager student.” One who responded well to the carrot approach. “The gratefulness should be theirs that such a submissive would offer his service for their pleasure.” Only an obtuse, dimwitted dominant would resort to the stick with this one. “It is the heart of the paradox that fuels our games.”
Jay tipped his head, rustling their hair together. “Paradox, Master Henry?”
“Indeed. The control is mine.” He slipped his hands between his partner’s legs and teased the soft skin of his inner thighs, fluttering closer to Jay’s weeping cock. “I determine the direction and form of our games.”
Closing his hand around the shaft released an explosive exhalation from his submissive, as if every last bit of breath left his body in a single burst.
“You put yourself in my hands,” he whispered, “in an immense show of trust and courage.”
He squeezed Jay’s cock with a slow pull. The heat seared his palm.
Legs trembling, Jay whimpered.
“But you can stop our game at any time.” Lips alongside Jay’s ear, he spoke low and slow. “You hold the power in a single word, my boy. Paradox.”