Becoming His Master

by M. Q. Barber

  Naomi’s fierce eyes glared at him. She’d want it harder, rougher, faster and with less tenderness. He’d forbidden her to ask. She’d get what she needed from a gentle touch or none at all, and she knew it. Being forced to accept the opposite of her preference added a perverse excitement to her experience, telling her he found her unworthy of receiving her desires.

  All of which operated on a level below Jay’s awareness. He had the rhythm down now. Henry lifted his hands.

  “Keep going, my dear boy. I want to enjoy watching your exquisite form.” Taking a half step back, he rested his hands on the woman’s knees as if the location were merely convenient. Jay wouldn’t notice the outward pressure he brought to bear, forcing her legs to take his weight as he held her open.

  Tight muscles worked in Jay’s back and lower, the ever-increasing flex in his ass a delightful vision. Jay’s tenor filled the room with a panting song.

  “Master, I, I need, I’m gonna—” Jay sucked in a breath. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” he murmured. “I want you to come.”

  He darted a hand toward their joining and stopped just above to grip the slippery bundle of nerves peeking out from beneath its hood.

  “Come for my boy, Naomi.” He pinched and twisted.

  Her wail matched Jay’s whimper. Her body, unable to budge the table, smacked against the sealed wood as she shook. Jay’s thrusts lost coherence and rhythm altogether. Thrice more he drove forward before rocking to a stop, her body shuddering around his.

  Henry stroked her thighs with a fluttering touch as he pressed kisses to Jay’s back. His cock throbbed with insistent demand. Open his slacks, bend his submissive forward, test that snug fit. He held his hips back, denying himself pressure and relief both.

  “A wondrous show, my boy.” He nuzzled Jay’s neck. “You’ve pleased me very much.”

  Jay sagged against his chest, a tentative weight as if he tested his boundaries. Accustomed to stricter, more unfeeling rules, perhaps. Fearing a reprimand.

  Henry wrapped an arm around the younger man and clasped him close.

  Jay rewarded his gesture with a satisfied sigh and a tiny wiggle.

  A tilt of his hips kept Jay from brushing his erection. His submissive had best be still before he forgot himself and fucked him here and now.

  Not a perfect night, but not a disaster, either. He’d count it a victory and hope Jay had learned to respect his worth. To see more to the lifestyle than the poor experiences to which he’d been subjected.

  He grasped Jay’s hand and guided him to the lip of the condom. “Hold tight and pull back.”

  Jay hadn’t softened enough to create a problem yet, but teaching him best practices would help his reputation with other partners later. The thought nagged at him, an irritation he pushed aside. “Courtesy demands we not expose playmates to fluids unless such an exchange is negotiated.”

  Jay obeyed with a nod. His cock slid free.

  Naomi flashed them both a lazy smile.

  Sending Jay to discard the used condom in the biobox near the door, he lowered their temporary partner’s legs and reached for her hands. “Up you go.”

  She rose, blinking and stretching.

  “Steady?” He held on as she tested her legs.

  Dark chocolate hair bobbed as she nodded. “I’ll do, sir.”

  “Go and fetch your things, then. Your behavior was acceptable.” More than, though she’d appreciate the lack of praise more than its application, at least until the game had ended.

  “Thank you, sir.” She scurried to her bag along the wall.

  Cock limp and gleaming, Jay wandered back to his side. Studying first the empty table and its missing occupant and then his master, he tipped his head and furrowed his brow. “You’re not—” Jay gestured at the woman donning her robe.

  “A moment, my boy.” Laying a swift kiss on Jay’s cheek, he reined in his arousal. His eagerness to paint his partner. His cock rubbing a hole through his slacks.

  He crossed to Naomi and gripped her shoulders with a strength she’d appreciate. “Submissive Naomi, I release you from our game and thank you for your service.”

  She thanked him with solemn dignity in return. Her feet arched with delicate strength as she raised up on her toes.

  He bent his head.

  “It was more fun than I expected,” she whispered. “I hope your boy appreciates how hard you work.”

  She slipped out the door without another word, leaving him alone with his not-quite-lover and a cock aching for release.

  Well. What the woman found degrading, Jay would find empowering. Acceptance. A kind of claiming. He wouldn’t deny it tonight, not for himself or Jay either. Next week would be soon enough to begin letting his student go. To usher him out into a wider world. Tonight, Jay was still his.

  “Go and sit on the sofa, my boy.” He spoke without turning to see his submissive. “Lean back. Spread your arms along the top, please.”

  Waiting, he listened to Jay’s movements. The rustle of fabric as he sat. At the expectant silence, he turned.

  “Yes, just like that.” Four strides brought him to the sofa. He stood between Jay’s spread knees. “Thank you.”

  A beautiful nude canvas. He slipped his belt free of the buckle. Flicked open the clasp. Paused to appreciate Jay’s wide eyes and parted lips.

  “Just for me, Master Henry?” Shining adoration and trusting obedience mingled in Jay’s eyes. Humble pleasure flowed from his mouth.

  “I save my best work for my best boy.”

  The beaming smile in return made his cock thump. Pressure alone started the slow click of a falling zipper.

  He took himself in hand with a quiet grunt. He’d be as fast to finish as his sub tonight, it seemed. A terrible example after he’d focused Jay’s homework on slowing his masturbation routine for so many weeks.

  The desire to claim his submissive overrode his usual practice. Watching Jay play and guiding his actions embodied the exquisite, excruciating foreplay he craved.

  His breath came fast. He locked gazes with Jay, the warm depths of those blackstrap molasses eyes sparking with excitement. The sensation of his hand faded in favor of a more desirable vision, Jay in his arms and his cock working slow and deep.

  Jay clenched the slipcover on the sofa. His chest rose and fell, a beautiful target in motion. His gaze dropped. Squirming, he whined an urgent plea.

  A low growl escaped Henry’s throat as the first streaks of white arced over Jay’s lap and landed at his sternum. Ejaculate ran down the firm chest in lazy rivers, a mark of ownership he ought to have resisted indulging.

  The sight satisfied to a frightening degree. How much of his vaunted ideals would he willingly set aside to keep this young man under his control? What harm might he do thereby?

  Jay lifted his hand and started toward his chest, arresting in mid-motion. “I—Master Henry—can I—”

  “It’s all right, my boy,” he murmured between harsh breaths. “Have your taste.”

  Jay dragged his fingers through the sticky white glaze coating his skin and brought them to his mouth with all the joy of a gourmand sampling a culinary masterpiece. His sigh as his tongue tip touched his fingers expressed a fulfillment beyond words.

  Would that he might satisfy his own desires as easily. They grew stronger each week, and Jay had yet to show him he had the will and the capability to make safe choices for himself. Until he did, claiming him in truth would be the worst sort of trespass.

  Next week. Next week he’d test Jay’s awareness and capabilities.

  Impress me, my dear boy. Please. For both our sakes.

  Chapter 7

  Henry arrived at Victor and Emma’s home early Friday evening to entertain his godson with a round of backgammon. Sharp for a six-year-old, Thomas nearly eked out a victory before his classmate’s mother arrived to ferry him to a sleepover.

  Emma served a delightful glazed salmon with baby potatoes for dinner, and the conversation s
parkled. She carried dessert to the table with customary grace, delivering what looked to be a sublime pecan tart. A whiff of caramel invited investigation.

  The end of a fine evening before the painful night ahead.

  Fork raised, he set the edge against the point of his pecan wedge. The closer he came to the crust, the closer he would be to introducing his student to other dominants. Ones known to him, of course, whom he’d approached in advance to facilitate negotiation training. None who’d try to take Jay tonight, and yet....

  Foolish, superstitious, to believe leaving the tart untouched would be to leave Jay untouched as well.

  “Does it distress you also, Henry?”

  Dragged from self-absorption, he hummed an inquiry. “The tart, Em? It appears scrumptious. Surely you aren’t distressed about the state of your culinary arts.”

  She shook her head with light laughter.

  “The unevenness of our table. Party of three? You ought to bring a friend next time.” She cocked her brow and tipped her head in a teasing maternal challenge. “You’ve had dinner with the boy what, three times now? A record, I’m sure.”

  The reminder pricked his heart. Fingers tightening on the fork, he managed a flat reply. “Three times, yes.”

  She returned her attention to her dessert with a graceful shrug. “What would be the harm in bringing him out of the club? Or isn’t he good enough for that?”

  Rage hammered at his ribs that anyone should so name Jay. As if he didn’t desire a deeper relationship with the sweetest submissive boy he’d ever met. As if he hadn’t filled his studio with sketches of Jay in every conceivable pose, with every expression, showing every line and shadow of his musculature. He blinked back the sting in his eyes.

  “Emma.” Victor cut through the silence. “Go upstairs and wait for me.”

  Her quiet gasp drew his attention as she rose to her feet. She stared at him with wide eyes and a rapidly paling face etched with regret. “May I apologize to our guest first, husband?”

  “You may not. You may reflect upon the value of holding your sharp tongue. Go, and let the prick of conscience keep you company while you await your punishment.”

  The click of her heels on hardwood echoed as she crossed the dining room and the foyer and climbed the stairs.

  Henry gazed at the ceiling and expelled a slow breath until he’d emptied his lungs.

  Victor ventured to the sideboard, poured two fingers of brandy, and set the glass in front of him with a thud. “Henry?”

  “She’s right, you know.” He curled his fingers around the glass. “The boy is more than good enough.”

  “I’ve never seen you so rattled and indecisive.” Victor’s trademark mixture of gentle brusqueness, the art of inquiring without inquiring.

  “He’s perfect for me.” The sip of brandy burned going down. “Except in all the ways he’s not.”

  “Namely?”

  “He’s still a child at twenty-five. No serious relationships, no experience.” Jay’s gentle naiveté was itself a temptation, but he refused to pluck such tender fruit. Shut off all avenues before young Mr. Kress had explored them. Deny him the pleasures of youth when he himself had been granted time for adventuring.

  His own desire to find a serious partner had only manifested in the last few years as he’d watched Victor hover over Emma and their son. A family of his own would be a blessing. Forcing Jay to that maturity at twenty-five would be unkind, no matter how much he desired him.

  “So you’ll teach him.” Victor eased into his chair with his own glass cupped in his palm. “The first time I saw my beloved, she was sixteen. Poised and perfect, even at that age.” He raised his glass, studying the color in the light. “The daughter of my newest business partner. Utterly off-limits for years. She had her youthful dalliances, and I kept my distance.”

  “Precisely. You kept your distance.” As he intended to do, once he’d gotten Jay settled. “The boy’s past experience is all with women. He hadn’t confronted or explored other desires until six months ago, and every bit of it is tied up in his confusion about his submissive desires.”

  His mentor shook his head. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Henry. I kept my distance out of respect for her age, not her inexperience.”

  Victor drained the glass and set the empty tumbler on the table. “If the boy wants a woman, what of it? I’ve seen you play with any number of women. Didn’t you procure one for him last week? Encourage the boy’s flings. Vanilla, if it’ll keep him safer. He’ll gain experience, and you’ll be satisfied you aren’t denying, suffocating, or controlling him beyond what he needs. Pick the women yourself if his fragility concerns you.”

  True, he had, and Naomi had been discreet. She’d done well with Jay, even if playing with another submissive wasn’t her usual choice. Perhaps he might search for a woman who suited them both.

  “You know all of these things, Henry. So what is your true concern?” Victor leaned forward in his seat. “What is it that so frightens you about this boy?”

  “I want to take him home.” He closed his eyes and let the words reverberate in his mind. The first time he’d said them aloud. A soaring freedom and a crushing weight both.

  “So you’ll admit my darling wife was right, and we’ll all have a toast to—”

  “Home home, Victor.” Opening his eyes, he pushed his glass past his plate with two fingers. “I’ve known the boy less than two months. I can count the number of times I’ve met him on two hands. Yet I want him to meet my mother. I want to take him home and tie him to my bed and fuck him until he can’t stand, and then I want to clean him up and buy him a proper suit and introduce him to my mother. I’m at sea. The boy touches something in me.”

  “Years of searching and not finding,” Victor murmured. “But once you have, the rewards are vast and immeasurable.”

  “If I tell him, he’ll agree just to please me. I won’t shackle him with that.”

  Wouldn’t he? Hadn’t he spent an inordinate amount of time at dinner staring at Emma’s neckline? The collar she wore, the pearl choker no one outside their circle would suspect of being more than a favorite piece of jewelry. To her, to Victor, the meaning far surpassed such simplicity.

  If Jay held out his arms, wouldn’t he lock bracelets around his wrists and claim him for his own? A symbol of submission, of ownership, Jay might wear in all the hours they were apart. The thought tantalized him.

  “It can work despite the age difference, Henry.” Victor interjected a lighthearted air with his shrug. “He may truly know what he wants. Emma did, and she was far younger than your boy. And if he doesn’t, and he leaves, you’ll still have taught him how to handle himself in an adult relationship and safe play.”

  “What if he stays,” Henry whispered. “What if he’s confused and unhappy but he stays to please me.”

  “Then you’ll break it off gently when you see his unhappiness.” Soft lines formed around Victor’s encouraging smile. “He won’t be able to hide it from you. I’ve seen him with you in the club. His feelings are plain on his face. He’s not the lost boy he was seven weeks ago. You’d know. Trust yourself. You have years of experience to draw upon.”

  “It’s more difficult when the feelings are so strong.” Never had they been this tethered to his heart.

  “It always is.” Victor turned toward the stairs. “If your feelings for this boy are as strong as mine for my Emma, you’ll never tire of making the effort—and you’ll be amply rewarded for it. To have such dedicated service is a thing of beauty.”

  “A joy for ever,” he murmured. Keats rolled through his mind. Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

  Victor sighed. “You want to offer the boy choices because you wish to be certain he has nothing but the best for himself. You’re overlooking a flaw in your design. You want this for him because you love him. Nothing the others offer
him could be better for him than your love.” His gaze strayed to the stairs once more. “I guarantee you that, Henry.”

  “He has built me up in his mind, Victor.” He could not be all Jay needed. “I am not the paragon of virtue he believes me to be.” He’d stumble. He’d fail. Jay deserved perfection. “I’m no more than a man like any other, making uncertain choices. I am not a god.”

  “Aren’t you?” An arrogant unconcern showed itself in Victor’s tone. He raised his hand as if to question the importance of such insignificant detail. “He worships you, and you answer his prayers. Is it any wonder the boy believes you a god? Farm him out to others if you must, but don’t believe you do it for the boy’s sake.”

  “All I’ve done for the last two months has been for the boy’s sake!” He shoved the chair back as he stood, slapping his hands flat on the table’s edge, his breath bellowing like a bull’s.

  “Yet you’d abandon him now.” Victor stood to meet him, rising at a more deliberate pace, his eyes unyielding. “Why do you allow your fear to hold you back? Love demands more of you. Whether master or servant, we are all of us slaves to love.”

  He swallowed hard and dipped his head in acknowledgment. Victor’s wisdom cut as deep as Emma’s insight. They’d hunted tonight, flushed him from the undergrowth and given chase. His dread intensified.

  A vibration at his hip signaled a call. The club.

  “The boy will be waiting,” he murmured. “And you’ve your own matters to attend to. We’re still on for next week?”

  “Of course, Henry. My wife will consider it a delicious recompense for her misstep tonight.”

  Henry stepped into the grand salon seventeen minutes after hanging up the phone. Having followed his instructions with precision, Jay waited in his play shorts and his ribbon in a quiet corner. The mere sight of him eased Henry’s tumbling thoughts and imposed a kind of order. Attention to Jay took priority. His own turmoil would wait.

  Standing at his approach, Jay lacked the eager, wiggling energy he associated with him. The thin smile and slumped shoulders bespoke weariness. A long week?