by Drew Sera
Amy and I climbed the stairs to the main floor, and I led her to the section that had been reserved for the class. Fucking Everett stood there looking as arrogant as ever. He was talking to another Dom as the submissive knelt by his feet. I noticed all of the subs were just wearing panties as they knelt waiting for the class to start. Most of the subs appeared to already have the knowledge of how to kneel and wait for instructions.
“Top off, princess. None of the others are wearing anything other than panties,” I commented.
Amy pulled her shirt off and looked down at the ground. Her bottom lip was pulled in between her teeth and top lip.
“Hold your head high, Amy. You belong to me.”
She raised her head and released her swollen lip. Her mascara seemed more smudged here in the main room under regular lighting. I put my thumb in my mouth to moisten it and then rubbed at the few smeared places on her face.
“There,” I said and smiled at her. “Just like a filthy princess.”
She smiled, and I guided her to a place on the floor. As Amy knelt among the other subs, I crouched down beside her and whispered, “Don’t embarrass me, slut.” I winked and stood just as Everett approached.
“Paul,” he said to me.
God, I really can’t stomach this prick.
“Everett.”
“Will you be staying for the class?” he asked.
“No. I’ll be conducting a class in the dungeon in a half hour. A much more involved class than the ‘sub 101’ class you’re giving. So, I must prepare,” I jabbed at him.
He stared at me with that smug smile of his and then glanced over his shoulder at the small group of women that were waiting for him.
“I understand that a new sub class isn’t your speed, which is probably a good thing for the subs.” I loathed this man. “If they’re given the right information and learn how to incorporate it, they will build self-confidence,” he said.
I shrugged.
“Why go through that trouble if they’ll just do as their told?” I pushed that back at him.
He narrowed his eyes at me, and he almost seemed at a loss for words.
“Paul, when a submissive believes in herself, the sky’s the limit. You don’t just want a mindless, shell of a body doing as you say just because you say it, do you?”
I looked over at Amy. She’s smart and interested in learning. I could never have a thoughtless sub. Looking back at Colin’s expression of concern made me smile. I got to the fucker. I slapped his upper arm and smiled.
“Of course not, Everett. You know how much I like a good challenge,” I said.
Colin wasn’t amused by my comments, and I didn’t give a fuck. I messed with his head in the tiniest way and made him think about what my intentions were with Amy.
And speaking of a good challenge, just outside the window I could see Graves heading toward the lagoon pool with three subs. My pulse picked up as I headed for the door.
From the patio area, I watched the subs undress and lower themselves in the shallow end of the pool while Anthony sat on the decking with his feet dangling in the water.
Fuck. To be this guy for a day.
With his back to me, I took a seat to watch the show. As the girls took turns lowering their heads to blow him, I pulled out my phone and opened my Kinky Links account. I found my special album dedicated to this muse of mine. It’s been a while since I’ve looked at them. Amy thinks I got rid of these. I told her I would, but I’m not ready.
I gazed at an image of him from a distance that showcased the lines of the muscles in his back perfectly.
He was easy on the eyes; everyone thought so. But damn, the guy had something dark in him. The anger that he’s kept leashed should be let loose. And I was the perfect person to help him with that.
If he’d only fucking let me.
I had studied these pictures hundreds of times. Graves sort of grew up in Irons. His body has changed since first meeting him over fifteen years ago. His lines were still there but softer now. The scar he carries and protects has faded and shrunk over time. One thing that hasn’t changed is the guarded inferno that remains caged behind his eyes.
I don’t know how I forgot the sheer thrill that I would get when I looked at these. My imagination began running wild as it always had when my eyes feasted on these pictures. Amy wanted me to get rid of them, but I hadn’t yet. And I’m not going to. She’s not calling the shots.
The foursome was getting louder in the pool and Graves could be as loud as fuck when he comes. The entire club practically could tell when he comes. God knows I’d heard it too many times to count, yet I never tired of hearing it.
“Fuck, yeah that’s it,” Anthony said to the sub with her face buried in his lap.
I looked up in time to see him lean back on the decking, resting the weight of his body on his elbows and forearms.
Jesus fucking Christ.
From where I was sitting, I could see over his shoulder, down his sculpted chest to the head of the little blonde anxiously working on his cock. The girl didn’t know anything about the man she was trying to service. Any sub here who knew anything about Graves knew that he needed it rough. That’s not to say he couldn’t come otherwise but as I’ve watched him over the years, I’ve realized that he is a sexual masochist. We’re both unique sexual creatures. He’d get so much out of a beating session with me. He’d never co-top with Everett again.
“Harder,” he told the girl.
“Good, Graves. Tell the sub what you need,” I whispered at a safe distance so he couldn’t hear me.
I set my phone on the patio table and stroked my cock over the fabric of my pants as I watched the sub attempt to bring him pleasure. When he moaned, I shut my eyes and let my depraved imagination do as it pleased as I rubbed myself. He was enjoying the blow job, but barely. I could tell by the sound of his moans that he was unfulfilled. Desperation was in his moan, silently begging to be given what he needs. I continued to rub myself until I heard a man right beside me clear his throat.
When my eyes shot open, I found Blake standing there watching me. Shit, this didn’t look good. His eyes shifted to my cell phone on the table. I don’t think he could tell that the image was of Graves many years ago but the look on his face told me that he had something on his mind.
Casually, I reached out and picked up my phone as if there wasn’t something on it that might cause Blake to freak out. It was just a picture, and hopefully, he couldn’t tell that it was his precious Anthony.
Inadvertently, my body jerked at the sound of Anthony finally coming. The girls jockeyed for positions, hoping to get some of his cum. My heart was pounding. Suddenly I felt like I was back in high school when my parents found the pictures of me whipping my friend that was tied to a tree. I felt exposed as Blake looked down at me.
“Paul, I’d like to talk to you,” he said but didn’t move from the spot where he stood.
I nodded and gestured to the empty patio seat beside me while I put my phone in my pocket.
“I think this conversation is best suited in my office,” he added.
I stood and followed Blake inside, but not before I glanced over my shoulder at the subs with Graves.
Chapter Fifteen
June 2012
Blake
I’ve seen many dynamics over the years in Irons, and I’ve watched many of these relationships form and evolve. Most of them made sense to me, and some I can tell will struggle. As I watched Paul with Amy in the cell, I had a feeling that this is a doomed relationship.
It’s not that I don’t think they care about one another; they do. Amy was head over heels in love with Paul, but he has a number of needs that I don’t think Amy was prepared to meet. She would try, but she’s climbing a hill made of ice. She may do okay for a while, and the moment she thinks she has traction her feet will give way.
What I’ve been trying to figure out though, is what Paul’s intentions were. He claimed to love Amy, and I knew he cared ab
out her. He’s had many relationships over the course of our friendship, and none of them have lasted very long. He could be a handful, to put it mildly.
Amy’s hands caught my attention as Paul took hold of hers when they walked past me. They headed for the stairs to make it in time for the class that Colin was giving.
I eventually made my way upstairs and took a seat behind the class and observed Amy. The condition of her body didn’t escape my notice. She carried some marks and bruises that were typical of those who play with Paul. But as I watched her in Colin’s class, my concerns grew.
Where was Paul anyhow? Most of the Doms for the class attendees were sitting at the back of the class to support their subs and encourage them. But Paul was nowhere to be found. A troubling thought crossed my mind as I looked around the main room from my seat.
Colin was here teaching...which meant Anthony was somewhere...which meant that Paul might be watching Anthony.
I walked toward the door that led to the outside part of the club and from the windows lining the wall, I could see Anthony with a small group of subs in the pool. When I got outside, I saw Paul sitting alone a short distance away...watching Anthony with the girls. Dammit.
I thought that maybe I was jumping to conclusions by automatically thinking the worst. When I stood beside him, I could see that my thoughts were right on target. Or maybe, I’d been lax in my judgment and what’s going on. Paul sat, legs parted stroking himself through his pants. I got his attention with a cough and startled him. From behind us, Anthony grunted as he came and Paul clearly reacted to it.
Paul’s behavior was not acceptable; he can’t sit and leer at others while playing with himself. I had to get him away from Anthony and told him that we needed to talk. On our way to my office, many concerns raced through my head as I began retracing many years worth of instances.
Paul and I had been good friends for many years before Anthony showed up in Irons. Since then, my friendship with him had been different. I always felt his intentions regarding Anthony weren’t healthy; for either of them.
Once we got to my office, I sat down in a chair opposite the black leather couch where he sat.
“Problem, Blake?” Paul asked as if he had no clue.
“Remember, Paul. I know how your mind works. Don’t insult either of us.”
He looked away but nodded before looking at me again. Paul leaned back against the couch and looked downward. Embarrassed, maybe. I’m the last one to shame someone for their desires, but he was teetering on a very fine line.
“No bullshit, Paul. Tell me what it is about Anthony?”
At first, I thought he was going to balk or pretend that he has no idea what I’m talking about. But he nodded and turned his hands over before letting them fall to his lap again.
“He’s just like me.”
This comment took me by surprise, and I waited for him to elaborate.
“He needs to hurt to get his release.” Paul stared coldly at me. I felt as though I wasn’t looking at a friend I’ve known for so many years. “He’s a masochist, Blake.”
I was able to control my facial expressions and not give into the urge to shake my head at him. He was finally having a sit-down conversation with me, and this was my chance to try and piece together where his obsession with Anthony came from and what is at the heart of it.
“He needs pain to come.”
“Paul, just because he enjoys playing rough, doesn’t mean he’s a masochist...or sadist for that matter.”
“You obviously haven’t watched him over the years as I have.”
“You’re right, Paul. I haven’t watched him as you have. You need to leave him alone and knock off this high school girl behavior. You need to focus on Amy. Help her learn. Nurture her curiosity.”
The conversation with Paul really started to disturb me because I realized how long he’s thought and obsessed over Anthony.
“He needs to hurt. He needs that physical challenge each day. Can’t you see how he aches for it?” Paul’s voice was pleading with me to see it his way. “He co-tops with that fucking smug CEO. He’s not having his needs met, Blake. And as long as he co-tops, he’ll always be left unsatisfied.”
Just to be certain of what he was really saying to me I threw out a no-nonsense question.
“You think he needs to be beaten?”
“Yes! You’re not blind, Blake. He has some shit in his past. I saw it in him when he joined Irons all those years ago. He possessed poise, though, and control. He’s the calmest fucker here...on the outside.” Paul got up from the couch and continued to animatedly try to get his point across. “But on the inside, Blake, that guy is a fucking fireball.”
I didn’t see Anthony in the same light as Paul did, and I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Paul was a master at disguise. He always has been calm and in control, but he was painting Anthony as calm on the exterior but chaotic on the inside. I knew better…I was staring at the master manipulator.
“And let me guess, you can help him,” I said calmly.
“Yes. Blake, you held him back and prevented him from growing. I could have helped him all those years ago.”
I sat and stared at Paul. Anthony was very young when he walked through my club doors, and I could see that many of the experienced Doms wanted him as their apprentice.
“Paul, I saw pain in his eyes when he joined. But it wasn’t a need in him. I think he had an abusive childhood. He didn’t need physical pain to be fulfilled. He needed guidance and to be given a chance to make his own decisions as he learned.”
“You’re wrong, Blake. He needed pain for validation. To feel exonerated from whatever he did in his past. He did something less than favorable at some point. That’s why he aches for physical pain. He knows he deserves to be punished. If he’s hurting, it’s releasing the guilt and anger he holds onto.”
I continued to stare at him. He was so far off base. He’s obsessed over this for years, and honestly, I had no idea how he’s maintained the distance he has with Anthony. He’s maintained control at keeping the distance.
“I could have helped him release all that anger. If he had been mentored as I had when I started in the lifestyle, he’d be different now.”
“Yeah,” I couldn’t contain my laugh. “Isn’t that the truth? Paul, you would have extinguished that young man’s soul and interest in learning and exploring.”
“What? God, you’re so fucking wrong, Blake.” Paul began to pace my office floor with quick long strides. “If he had been restrained, as I had, it would have given him the freedom to explore his mind as he was beaten. All that guilt and negativity would be purged.”
“No, Paul. Not him. I think there’s a good chance that he was physically hurt as a child. That’s where those emotions you see behind his eyes come from. Chaining him up and beating him would have made that fire grow. It wouldn’t put it out, and you wouldn’t be helping him. You would have been taking advantage of him; telling him that he needed it for your own needs. Confusing him…manipulating him.”
I moved toward my desk and sat on the edge. He wasn’t getting it.
“You and I saw something very different in him almost sixteen years ago. While you saw all of the dark, rough edges, I saw a fragment of light. I never saw or had any indication that he ached to be physically hurt. Instead, I saw a yearning for acceptance and to be given a chance to understand why he liked the kinky stuff he liked. He needed to experience this lifestyle and understand that it was okay for him to be himself. He needed nurturing and a chance to grow and make decisions on his own. If you mentored him, you would have doused the small light he had.”
“Fuck, Blake,” Paul stood with his hands on his hips shaking his head at me. “I just want to chain him up…make his skin red…leave some deep bruises on him. I want to push him until all of that anger erupts from him.”
“Stop, Paul.” I held my hand up and shook my head. “You have got to stop. You’re going to have to control your thoughts and wher
e your attention should be.”
He looked down but nodded his head.
“How are things going with Amy?” I cautiously asked.
Paul shrugged and looked defeated. I was disappointed when his facial expression dropped when I switched from talking about Anthony to Amy.
“Things with Amy are fine. She’s obviously still learning. We’re getting there.” Paul ran his hands through his hair and looked back at me. “I need to get to the dungeon and prep for the class I’m giving. Are you done with me?”
When I nodded, Paul left the room without another word. I decided to go to the main room and see how the class went and to talk to Amy.
From across the room, I saw many of the Doms chatting quietly with their subs as they helped them into their clothes. Amy stood alone, and once she was dressed, she sat down on an empty couch. I grabbed a few bottles of water from the bar and made my way to her.
“Mind if I have a seat?” I asked her as I handed her the bottle of water.
I took her bright smile as her answer and sat across from her. As she took hold of the bottle, I focused on the inside of her hand. Now that I was right next to her, I could see the hand more clearly.
“How are things going with Paul?” I came right out and asked.
“Paul?” she smiled, her eyes fluttered, and she waived her other hand in the air…which gave me another great view of that hand. “I’m so used to calling him J.P., Blake.” Her light laugh soon faded, and she resulted to nodding. “It’s good, I mean, things are going well between us.”
“May I see your hand, Amy?”
She frowned and held her hand out, palm down. I didn’t touch her hand but made a motion with my fingers for her to turn it over. When she did, I leaned forward and looked at the wounds. There were three prominent reddish lines on her palms in addition to a few fading lines. By the looks of the marks, I guessed they occurred about four or five days ago. I glanced at her and saw the nervousness and shame in her eyes.
“Amy, relax, sweetheart.”