by Willa Okati
“I don’t know...”
“Yes,” Martin insisted, suddenly sinking down gracefully in front of Harrison. Harrison could not help but raise his eyes to meet the Magician’s soothing gaze. “Yes, you do know. Admit the truth, Harrison. Say the words so both of us can hear them.”
“I can’t...”
“You can. You want to. I’ve Seen inside you, remember? I know what you want. You do, too.” Martin lifted Harrison’s hands off his thighs and squeezed them. “You’ll feel a hundred times better once you come clean.” He grinned crookedly. “I’ve been there before, myself.”
Harrison couldn’t stop the fine tremors shaking him from head to toe. He swallowed on a painfully dry throat. “I’m a top. I’ve always been a top. I’m the one in charge.”
“Not anymore. Letting go will be wonderful. Believe in something beyond dry facts. Believe in yourself. Believe in me.”
Harrison had to close his eyes again; he took a deep breath. Then, another and another. Martin waited patiently, compressing his hands in a soothing rhythm.
The struggle within Harrison’s heart was tremendous, a battle he didn’t feel sure he could win, though he burned to conquer and marveled at how he yearned for what Martin had promised, both at the same time.
Finally, with a tremendous effort of will, he made up his mind for once and all, and nodded.
“Ah, ah, ah. You have to say this out loud.” Martin lifted Harrison’s broad hands and kissed the knuckles on each. “Relinquish it all, Harrison.”
Harrison exhaled heavily. He gathered all his pain, fear, and skepticism up into a ball, then cast the weighty mass aside and allowed himself to crumple. “Yes,” he said; then, in relief, he repeated himself. “Yes.”
Martin kissed his hands a second time. “Good pet. I knew you could. Thank you, Harrison, love. Now, how do you feel?”
“Strange.”
“Strange how?”
“Like a... a...” Harrison struggled for words. He found thinking difficult after discarding so heavy an encumbrance, something he’d clung to for too long. Would he be stupid now? The fear struck deep and hard.
“You’re as intelligent as ever,” Martin reassured him, reading his thoughts so easily. “No worries. Go on.”
“I feel like a balloon,” Harrison confessed. “The kind children get at carnivals and parties. Floating. Does that make sense?”
“Floating, and brightly colored, although you probably can’t see as much yet. That’s all right. You will.”
Harrison accepted Martin’s words; he didn’t feel like there was anything he wanted or needed to say in return. He breathed in and out instead, the scented air filling his lungs like the freshest breath of spring after a long winter.
And he became aware of something else, as well, spreading through his body in equal measure with the relief that came from total surrender.
Arousal.
The desire built slowly but steadily, pooling in his groin. He felt his cock gradually stiffen, something he would normally have forced down or efficiently taken care of, but not now.
His erection belonged to Martin, so he waited to see what Martin would do with him.
The Magician purred in approval. “Body and mind agree,” he said. “Tell me, Harrison. What do you want? I order to you answer the question.”
“You. I want you.” These words, at least, tumbled easily from Harrison’s lips.
“How do you want me?”
“However I can have you. Do whatever you want to do with me.”
“Are you mine, then?”
“Yes. Yes. Yours.”
“Such a quick study. That’s exactly what I wished to hear. Then again, you’re naturally talented, although you were unaware before now. Sit still.” Martin rose, walked behind Harrison, and knelt again. The firm end of Martin’s cock brushed against the still-slippery crease of Harrison’s ass, making Harrison realize, with a mild sense of surprise, that they were both naked and had been all along.
Nestling up tight against Harrison’s back, Martin pushed his cock between Harrison’s cheeks. Harrison couldn’t help a hiss of pain as the Magician’s hard prick brushed his hole, still aching from their rough fuck earlier.
“Sore? Hush, hush, I’m not angry. Soreness is to be expected. Not to brag, but I’m pretty well hung, and you took every inch of me earlier in your cherry hole.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Harrison meant what he said with all his acquiescent heart. “If you want to fuck me, then fuck me. I... I might like the...”
“Hush. You’re not ready for pain yet. Submission is as far as we need to go right now. Pain would be too much at the moment. In the future, though, that might be a different story.”
Harrison shuddered with pleasure and banished his small flicker of amazement at how the notion enticed him. He had an idea... Speaking slowly, he suggested, “You’re a Magician. You could heal me. Make it easy.”
“I could. I won’t.”
“But--”
“Don’t question me.” Martin reached under Harrison’s arms to spread his hands on Harrison’s chest. He gave Harrison’s nipples a warning tweak. The feeling wasn’t painful, but Harrison got the point. He nodded and let the need to argue float away.
“What do you say?” Martin prompted.
What? Oh. “I won’t question you.”
“Master.”
“I won’t question you, Master.” Such strange words to sound so right and taste so good on his tongue. They made him almost giddy. It really was a mad, mad, mad, mad, mad world, wasn’t it? And he’d been so blind to everything all along.
God, he’d been a fool.
“Better and better. You obey so sweetly.” Martin kissed the nape of Harrison’s neck. “You need release. I choose to let you have what you crave. I’ll enjoy myself, too.”
“But you can’t... won’t...”
“Silly pet. Sex isn’t all about penetration, no matter what some men think, gay or straight. Sex between a Master and his pet is whatever the Master wishes to call it.” Martin began stroking his cock up and down between Harrison’s ass cheeks. Instead of stinging pain, Harrison felt a tingling thrill of excitement. “See? This can be just as good in its own way.”
“Yes,” Harrison breathed, tightening his ass without prompting to give Martin more friction. “Oh, yes.”
“I’m not forgetting about your needs, pet.” One of the hands on Harrison’s chest slid down to give his balls a hard squeeze, stopping a hair short of causing pain. A taste of discomfort was all Harrison got, but his cock twitched with excitement at the tiny ache. “Here. For you.”
Martin gripped Harrison’s cock, a nice solid grasp, and began to move his hand up and down, masturbating him. Startled yet thrilled -- no one except himself had ever done this, not even Oliver, the selfish bastard -- Harrison let himself moan and rock into Martin’s fingers. He pushed forward into his lover’s hand, thrust backward against the Magician’s cock, and lost his head completely.
Martin never stopped crooning to him, not once. Harrison couldn’t have said how long they moved together, only that when he tried to hurry, Martin gently forced him to slow down. They could have been at it for minutes or hours when Martin finally whispered “Come” into his ear; Harrison’s balls let loose with a rough jet of semen that splattered on the floor between his knees.
Martin kissed Harrison’s neck as he himself came in a quiet, easy climax that perfectly matched their mood and gave Harrison a new insight into the control a Master possessed. So unlike Harrison’s former delusions of being in control of his own life. So much better.
They swayed together for a moment in perfect silence. Again, whether this lasted minutes or hours, Harrison didn’t know. He didn’t care, either. He was lazily intrigued when Martin murmured a word and the messy aftermath of sex evaporated, but Harrison floated on without faltering.
He could see the color of his balloon self now. Purple. Bright, shining purple.
“Pet.” Martin reached up t
o run his fingers through Harrison’s springy hair. “Lovely pet. I feel as if we’ve been here before, too. The Third Eye won’t let me look any further back right now. So I don’t understand, but I get the sense we are as good together now as we’ve always been. I believe it’s true somehow. You make me proud.”
Sweet satisfaction rolled over Harrison in comforting waves. He’d done well, hadn’t he?
“You realize this is only the first step, though, don’t you?” Martin cautioned. “We have so much more in front of us, but I think you’re definitely worth the effort. My magic tells me so, too.”
“It does?”
“Mmm hmm. More, I like you, too. Did you know that? Before you entered this bedroom chamber, I was torn between wanting to rip your lips off -- shh, shh, I won’t do that now, I promise -- and throwing you up against the wall to kiss you senseless, which I did do and probably will again.”
Martin scratched Harrison’s scalp, a light prickling sensation. “Don’t be afraid. Never be afraid. I’ll guide you every step of the way. I’ll teach you what you need to know about everything, and you’ll fall in love with being a pet and belonging to me.”
The truth in Martin’s words could no longer be denied. Harrison nodded, feeling himself float higher still. So delicious. So easy. So free.
It was magical.
Harrison laughed despite himself. Martin didn’t seem to mind, and even joined in.
“Funny what you see when you really get a good look at things, isn’t it?” The Magician gave Harrison’s curls one last tousle and then stood. “Stay where you are. We’ll need a contract. Let me get one and prepare some ink for signing.”
Contract? Ink? Harrison let the puzzlement wash over his head instead of seizing upon the words and worrying them like a bone between his teeth. He was content not to question. Martin would explain. Martin would take care of him.
Rocking slightly, Harrison embraced the blessed calm and let himself drift higher.
If Martin made any noise getting his things together, Harrison didn’t hear him. When the other man returned, Martin held two sheets of what looked intriguingly like genuine parchment, a quill pen, and a small bottle of black glass.
The Magician knelt before Harrison and laid everything down on the magically cleaned floor between them. “This is a contract between Master and slave, pet. You can read it, if you like, or I can summarize.”
“I trust you,” Harrison said, and it was the truth. “Just summarize.”
“Good, good pet. If I sign this, it binds me to the responsibility of taking care of everything you need. It includes a vow to teach you discipline and manners and how to please me. And even though I never would -- and never will, at least not on purpose -- it’ll keep me from harming you in any way. If you sign, you’re giving me the reins. I’ll be in control from now on.”
Harrison examined himself within and felt nothing but contentment with the proposal. “Sounds all right to me.”
“So well-behaved. This is the most basic of contracts. We can make whatever amendments you want later.” Martin held out the quill pen. “Will you sign?”
Harrison studied the quill for a long moment before taking the feather in his hand. One last time, the nature he’d shaped for himself tried to rebel, protesting that he was going too far, too fast, that he’d regret this, that he’d fallen into some kind of trick or trap.
To hell with that. Harrison started to dip the pen into the ink bottle with every intention of signing.
Martin’s gentle touch stopped him. “No, pet. This has to be signed in your blood.”
Blood?
“Don’t worry. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t hurt you, not ever, and this won’t even sting, not a bit. The quill’s nib is so sharp you’ll never feel a thing.” Martin nimbly turned the pen around and slid the pointed end into the thick blue vein on the back of Harrison’s wrist.
Damned if his lover wasn’t right. No pain.
Harrison watched in fascination as the nib came out dripping crimson. His blood, a drop or two of it, spattered the parchment in beautiful red dots.
Martin righted the pen and curled Harrison’s fingers around it. “Go on, if this is really what you want.”
Harrison had made his choice, and he wouldn’t turn back now. He signed, his handwriting sloppy with the unfamiliar instrument but still recognizable as his name. As he worked, Martin stroked his other arm, murmuring what sounded like endearments in a language Harrison couldn’t place. Maybe a tongue only Magicians knew.
Funny, in the humorous sense, how easy it was to accept such things now.
Martin eased the pen out of Harrison’s grasp. He dipped the nib into his inkwell, coming out with more crimson fluid pearling at the tip. “My own blood,” he explained. With quick, practiced strokes, he signed above Harrison’s scrawl. “There. We’re partners.”
Harrison frowned. Two signatures? It seemed too easy. “That’s all?”
“All the legalities, at least for now. Poor man. ‘My only love sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and known too late.’ I won’t let our arrangement turn into something you’ll regret. And believe me, I understand what a huge leap you’re taking. But I swear I’ll be there for you through the whole journey.”
Harrison bent his head and breathed in the sweet cinnamon-vanilla scent of peace.
“Good pet,” Martin purred. “Yes, you’re a good boy. You’ve done well, so well. More than I expected, more than I hoped for. There’s only one thing left.” He stood, offering Harrison a lift up. “I think you’ll like this. Maybe not as much as the sex, but still, an eye-opener. Come with me. Follow my footsteps. I don’t have a leash for you yet, but although I could make one from magic, I’m going to trust you to do as I say.”
Harrison stood. Was this what people meant by saying they’d achieved Zen? Perfect nothingness?
“Yes,” Martin answered, once again not needing Harrison’s thoughts to be spoken aloud. “In a way. Come along.”
“Where are we going?”
“First to clean up and then to the Heart of Amour Magique. The soul inside the body. He’ll like you.”
“He?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely a he, or at least he’s a ‘he’ with me. Don’t be afraid. It’s an honor, really. I’d have taken you anyway, but the Heart has let me know he wants me to bring you ASAP.”
“Why?”
“I think he wants to see what he can make of you,” Martin replied thoughtfully.
Harrison fell silent, delighting in not questioning anything about Hearts and he’s and just obeying.
Harrison followed where Martin led, unafraid and trusting. He knew now he always would, even to the gates of Hell and back.
Although he did wonder... Harrison knew what he thought about the club. But what would the club think about him?
Chapter Seven
Hey, buddy. How’s it hangin’? You look different this time around. Not exactly an improvement, but you’ll do. Put ’er there.
Harrison stared at the floating diamond that appeared to be speaking inside his mind. In a heavy Southern accent.
Martin nudged him. “Don’t be rude, pet.”
Harrison blinked. “Er... hello?” He’d thought about this moment while he and Martin had showered in the Magician’s hidden, but wonderfully decadent, bathroom. Thought some more as they’d dressed, Harrison in his own unearthed soft-blue shirt and trousers, and Martin in his black T-shirt and black jeans. Harrison hadn’t been sure what to expect the Heart of Amour Magique to look like. Truthfully, after the whirlwind he’d been spun through already, he was amazed he could think at all.
Giving in to Martin had been a blessed relief. Harrison felt lighter, happier, and yes, more peaceful. Allowing himself to believe in magic again had made him giddy with glee.
The farther away he got from Martin’s chambers, however, the clearer his head became. With clarity came doubt. He believed, yes, but what specifically had he opened himself to be
lieving in? Giving up facts and figures was easy to do, but what did he have to cling to afterward? Harrison had a naturally inquiring mind. He had questions, and he wanted answers.
Martin was both riddle and solution. A man he barely knew but to whom Harrison had signed away his life. Martin and magic. Legerdemain and whips and chains, that’s what Magician’s pets were made of. If Harrison didn’t think too hard about what he’d done, he could still float on the balloon.
The trouble was, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking once he’d started. Analyzing. Doubting. His experiences still felt right, but now it had begun to bother him, how he’d tossed everything he’d believed in and striven after most of his lifetime straight out the window.
A tangled mess, that’s what he was. Am I fickle, flighty, stoned, or just plain stupid? Harrison wondered wearily.
At least he wasn’t uncomfortable. The Heart of Amour Magique was located in a nicely appointed room full of honey-colored wood and manly-yet-country décor. The Heart glowed at him like lights on a Christmas tree, like visible laughter, but nothing more. The Heart had spoken, and now he waited for Harrison to make the next move.
Great, sure. But what exactly was Harrison supposed to do? Shaking hands was pretty much out.
Martin poked Harrison in his side, provoking a flash memory of the puzzling Lily and her constant prodding. “Harrison...” he warned.
“What?” Harrison snapped. The anger felt wrong, so he quickly amended it. “What, Master?”
“Say something else to the Heart. Make nice. The Heart is older than recorded history, so trust me, this is a big-time honor. I could count on one hand and still have fingers left over the number of people currently alive who’ve seen the Heart, much less talked to him.”
Harrison struggled to understand. “If I just knew what you were talking about. This is the Heart of Amour Magique. I understand the title, but I don’t know what the title means. And how can this talk?” He gestured to the vast diamond replica of a human-like heart, albeit one distorted by an extra aorta here, a few added valves there, and silvery-running veins that made him dizzy. “How does it work?”