“The best part about you is you still think you’re a skinny runt.”
“And how’s that bad?”
“It’s great. You don’t think the sun rises and sets on your beautiful head, unlike ninety-five percent of the group, who can barely get their egos through the door.”
“Not to sound like a broken record, but why is that bad?”
“People are attracted to you because, aside from your angelic eyes and lips that look like you’ve been kissing for hours, you’re a really nice guy.”
“I guess I am. I would rather die than betray Cole.”
“This is where you need to separate sex and love. One has nothing to do with the other. You’re a normal, healthy adult male. You’re supposed to be perpetually horny.”
“I need to get laid on a daily basis.”
“I remember those days.”
“Well, I’m used to having it regularly, and in the last few months sex has been very sporadic. I guess it’s only natural that I’m attracted to Trent.”
“It’s certainly understandable, Sloan. Trent is very attractive.”
“That doesn’t make it right. Cole would be devastated if he ever found out.”
“And who’s going to tell him?”
“Me.”
“Honesty isn’t all it’s cut out to be. Why would you tell him?”
“So he’d hear it from me and not one of the gossipmongers.”
“Are you trying to assuage your guilt or get back at him for bringing Noriko into the mix?”
I jumped out of the bed and began to pace. “I don’t fucking know! And speaking of Noriko, I’ve heard from the detective. She’s a whore.”
“What do you mean?”
“She comes from a long line of geishas.”
“It doesn’t necessarily make her a whore.”
“Isn’t that what they do? They’re glorified party girls.”
“No, it’s not that simple.”
“Whatever. I asked for more info.”
“How could she be a virgin, though?”
“Beats me.”
“Keep me updated, will you?”
Chapter 17
TRENT WAS about to enter his bedroom just as I stepped into the corridor. He looked surprised to see me leaving Max’s suite.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I said.
“If you’d rather be in his bed than mine, it’s your choice.”
“I wasn’t in his bed. Well, not really.”
Trent laughed and that dimple showed up again, changing his domineering look to something softer and much more attractive. I couldn’t help but smile back. “We were only talking.”
“I’m not your keeper, Sloan.”
“I know.”
“Then why explain?”
“I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
“Why do you care what I think?”
We gravitated toward each other, and when we were a few feet apart, I stopped, almost afraid of getting too close. He was still shirtless, and I couldn’t help but admire his physique now that I wasn’t pinned to the refrigerator. Trent was a perfect specimen of manhood. His skin was light bronze, most likely achieved through biweekly sessions on a tanning bed. His chest was well formed, without appearing grotesque, as were his biceps. Models had to be on the lean side or clothes wouldn’t hang right, but it didn’t mean we had to resemble emaciated zombies. Those days were long gone. Now, the public expected their clotheshorses to look more realistic, even if it was an illusion. Male models were encouraged to lift weights and work out, within reason. There was no market for overblown gym bunnies, but a skinny man with hardly any muscle wasn’t appealing either―trust me, I knew. It had taken years for me to fill out and get to the point where I was comfortable removing my shirt in public. Trent had no qualms running around half-naked. There was nothing shy or withdrawn about him. He exuded confidence, which rang every one of my bells. I suppose if I were honest with myself, I would admit there was a lot of truth to his statement that I was attracted to strong men. The chemistry between us was definitely powerful, and I could feel the tug. Yet, despite Max’s prediction that I’d succumb to the blond’s undeniable magnetism, I resisted.
“You look troubled,” Trent said softly. “I hope it’s nothing I’ve said.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind, and your comments didn’t sit well.”
“Does the truth scare you, Sloan?”
“How do you know what the truth is when you barely know me?”
“Call it instinct. I’ve been around long enough to know when a guy is a natural submissive. You’re a perfect example of strength and vulnerability. I would love to show you that there’s nothing to be ashamed or frightened of. Why don’t you watch one of our sessions tomorrow?”
“Won’t Jason object?”
“Not if I ask.”
“Can I think about it?”
Trent nodded. “Look, if nothing else, we should be friends. We’re going to spend a lot of time together on this photo shoot. I don’t see why it has to be uncomfortable for either one of us.”
“Agreed.”
He reached for my hand and held it for a minute. It was completely innocent, but I felt the sparks. Five years ago I wouldn’t have hesitated to drag him into my bedroom, but so much had happened in my life since then. I would never start anything when there were so many loose ends. Not the least of which was my partner, and the man I still loved. What Cole and I shared wasn’t going to be replaced by Trent and hot sex. I couldn’t fathom such an idea, but there was no denying I was sorely tempted. And if Trent wasn’t a mind reader, I’d eat my socks. He leaned forward and brushed my mouth with a soft kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.” I entered my room and shut the door firmly behind me. I didn’t turn the lock, certain that he wouldn’t force himself on me. A small part of me wished he would, taking the decision out of my hands. If he walked through the door, the onus of responsibility would be on him, and I could fool myself into thinking I’d been coerced. No such luck. I kept hearing the words “consenting adults” and “consensual sex.” It was one thing I had to admire about these dominants, if Trent was anything like Max in that regard. They knew how to control their urges and had the patience of a fucking saint.
I brushed my teeth and stripped, climbing into bed with nothing on but my fierce erection. It was torturing me, and I kept my hand away deliberately, willing it to subside, even though I’d brought a hand towel in the event that it continued to be disobedient. It was a lost cause. My mind’s eye kept seeing Trent and reliving the scene in the kitchen, feeling the bulge underneath his lounging pants. I flipped over and groaned into my pillow, humping the mattress to release some of my frustration. I imagined Trent straddling my ass and bending down to whisper in my ear. I got goose bumps thinking of his husky voice commanding me to hold my orgasm. “Don’t come until I let you.”
Moving the soft down pillow between my hips and the mattress, I thrust against it mindlessly, desperate to get off. The hand towel conveniently soaked up the mess when I finally shot my load.
My heart slammed against my chest, and I rolled over and dropped the towel over the side of the bed. Although completely unsatisfying, the orgasm did its job, and I was finally able to relax. A terrible longing for Cole gripped me suddenly. I wondered what he was doing right now. Did he miss me? How was he managing without me?
I couldn’t help but think about the comments that Max and Trent made about me being the “hop to” guy for Cole. I know that early on in our relationship he did call most of the shots, but that was how I wanted it. He had enough on his plate. He didn’t need a partner who fought him at every turn. In any case, there wasn’t much to fight about once my issues with cutting had been dealt with. Being in a loving relationship had done more for me than years of therapy and antidepressants.
I loved serving Cole. There was a part of me that yearned to be under the guidance of a strong and confident man
. It was something that came naturally, and maybe this was what Max meant. Did wanting to please a lover make me a submissive? Was that why I was turned on whenever Cole got domineering? And he was that, without a doubt. He got off on my compliance and willingness to do his bidding. And I liked seeing his confident and forceful side. It was far better than watching him struggle with his insecurities as he adjusted to being blind. Watching him trip on curbs or walk into walls was heartbreaking. If helping him feel whole in the bedroom was the answer to keeping him on an even keel, I was more than happy to oblige. In thinking back, the faster Cole had slid into the world of the sightless, the more aggressive he had become in bed. It was one area where he didn’t need his eyes to excel. His sense of touch was amplified, as was his hearing and his taste buds. He could reduce me to a quivering and malleable sex partner.
Once in a while we’d role-play. He was the warrior, my shogun, and I was always the slave boy. He had an authentic Japanese suit of armor, and he’d dress the part, insisting that I wear the simple cotton kimono of a peasant, so he could rip it off my body without worrying about costs. We’d buy them in bulk from Pier 1 and stash them in the linen closet. Whenever he pulled out the horned helmet, I knew I was in for a night of wild sex.
Our games took on many forms. He was adept in the art of knot tying, a skill he’d acquired as a Boy Scout, but he put it to good use with the silk scarves we also bought by the gross. He’d tie me up, and I’d be his captive for the evening while he tortured me with loving kisses and Ben Wa balls, a sensory delight invented by his Japanese brethren. Cole made me do everything when I played the part of a slave. We’d start out with a ritual bath, and he’d allow me to soap his entire body and shave his face and groin, continuing the ceremony with a relaxing massage that usually ended with a blowjob. He loved coming on my chest and face, smearing his semen all over me, staking his claim in a primal way. Cole preferred to be on top, constantly complaining about my size, but he would let me fuck him if I begged. He seemed to get off on the pleading, not so much the penetration. Our sex was out-of-this-world intense when we role-played, but that’s all it was. A game. Not a structured lifestyle.
Yet, wasn’t BDSM one big adventure into role-playing? My association with Max had taught me a little bit about his world, although admittedly, not enough to know the subtleties. He’d shown me the sadistic side, but we’d never moved beyond that. What Trent was talking about was something completely different, more in keeping with my relationship with Cole. It was eye opening to think I’d been in a D/s relationship all along without even knowing it.
In the last eighteen months, however, things had changed. I was stronger and more assertive while Cole was retreating and not as forceful. The wheel was turning, and maybe this is what was freaking him out. Cole probably felt he was losing control. I hadn’t even realized it was happening. My career had been climbing steadily, ever since Max had taken me under his wing, and I was at my peak. I had more money than I ever dreamed of, and I looked good, judging by all the men who were constantly trying to lure me into their beds. Cole was aware of my success because he handled our finances. He was privy to everything except for the flirting I put up with on a daily basis. Since I’d never looked at anyone twice, I didn’t see the point in upsetting him. I should have known he was keyed in to that part of being in the limelight. Cole was many things, but clueless or naïve weren’t adjectives I could attach to the man.
I decided to watch part of tomorrow’s training session. For curiosity’s sake, and also in the hope I might learn something more about myself. Perhaps then I’d understand Cole better. Who knew? I was pretty desperate at this juncture and willing to try anything. Maybe it would help me come to grips with Cole’s decision to have kids and dealing with Noriko. Doubtful, but it was worth the attempt.
THE THREE Doms and their submissive were already downstairs when I showed up for breakfast. Nobody seemed to care that it was only nine in the morning. They were as eager to get on with this training as I was to watch. Jason was very quiet, most likely preparing himself mentally. I wondered what would make a person crave that kind of pain. The few sessions I’d had under Max’s lash only made me cringe. Subspace was as nebulous as the ozone layer. People kept talking about it, but who could see the damn thing?
Max and Victor were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but Trent was in full-out leather regalia. His tight black pants were held together with bindings rather than a zipper. Strips of leather decorated with buckles and rivets wrapped around his upper chest, showcasing the well-developed muscles. He looked every bit the Dom, and once again my cock stirred with interest. “Ready?” he asked, practically melting Jason with his imposing presence.
“Yes, sir,” Jason said, keeping his head down.
We followed Max down the stairs toward his wine cellar. In all the time I’d known him, I’d never been underground before. I expected to see a dark and somewhat dirty room, but it was nothing like that. It was a finished basement with wall-to-wall carpeting and knotted pine walls. There was a temperature-controlled area that housed Max’s small collection of wine, but the rest of the room was a monument to the BDSM lifestyle, complete with a spanking bench, a leather swing, and a St. Andrew’s cross. I was savvy enough to know the function of each, having experienced them myself, however briefly.
“Please, strip,” Trent said, moving past Jason and heading toward a large bureau. He opened it and scanned the different instruments of torture. I turned away from him and observed Jason removing each item of clothing methodically, folding them into a neat pile. When he was completely naked, he knelt, clasped his hands behind his ass, and bent his head.
“Very nice,” Trent commented upon turning and seeing his sub.
Nice? That was an understatement in my book. Jason had a magnificent body, on par with Michelangelo’s David of Florence. His thighs were massive, as were his chest and arms. His groin was cleanly shaven, which only emphasized the daunting size of his semi-erect cock. He was more thick than long, and my brain short-circuited a little bit, imagining the stretch.
“What is your safe word, Jason?”
“Mulder, sir.”
Trent smiled. “X-Files?”
Jason’s blush was rather endearing. “I’m a big fan.”
“What are your hard limits?”
“No blood play.”
“Soft?”
“I’m not fond of ball gags, but I can deal with it if you insist.”
“We can forego that today. Do you have a preference on whips?”
“No, sir.”
“Good,” Trent said, “because I do.” He hefted a rather scary looking piece of leather that split halfway through the length. Later on I’d find out this was a tawse, one of the more easily mishandled whips. Trent had chosen the perfect piece of equipment to showcase his skills. Too much force with this particular strap could seriously damage a man and cut right through the layers of muscle. I hoped not to ever see this in my lifetime. Reading about it was bad enough, and Jason was too beautiful to ruin because of an inexperienced hand.
“Please, go and stand by the cross.” Trent picked up four leather cuffs and proceeded to attach them to Jason’s wrists and ankles. He then hooked them onto the clips at the end of the chains on the wooden X-shaped cross. “Do you expect to be fucked at the end of this session?” Trent asked, loud enough for us to hear.
“If it pleases you, sir.”
Trent caressed Jason’s ass, rubbing both hands around in circles, squeezing hard enough to leave fingerprints. I felt the excitement and saw Jason’s cock slowly filling out, getting thicker by the second.
“Please me by not coming until I allow it,” Trent said, stepping back. “If you do what I ask, I’ll fuck you.” Trent glanced in my direction to see if I was watching. “If you come beforehand, I’ll put you in a chastity device for twelve hours. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we’ll proceed.”
Chapter 18
Several heartbeats later, Jason began to groan. At first you could barely hear him, but soon he was clamoring for release, begging to come. He shifted his weight from leg to leg, obviously trying to get comfortable. Trent stopped for a second and went up to the man, whispering something in his ear while he rubbed his hand around Jason’s reddened ass. I saw Jason nod, and his breaths evened out, calmed by whatever Trent was telling him. It was like watching a jockey taming a frightened horse. Whatever he said worked miracles―the moaning ceased, but Jason’s erection never subsided. Trent slipped a finger down Jason’s crack and must have inserted it into his hole because Jason pressed his ass against Trent and groaned. “Please,” he entreated in the most pitiful voice.
“Hold on,” Trent commanded. “Submit to me, Jason, and I’ll let you come.”
I had no idea what Trent was talking about. Wasn’t Jason submitting by allowing himself to be chained, flogged, and imprisoned by his lust? Trent continued to stripe Jason until he sagged, and his head sort of lolled to the right. For a moment I thought he’d fainted. I moved over to Max quickly. “Is he okay? Maybe we should call an ambulance?”
Max held me back. “Don’t interfere. He’s in subspace.”
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