by Kim Dare
“Where?”
“Somewhere that isn’t here,” Jerry said.
He’d wrapped his arms tight around his body, as if he was trying to comfort himself. He held himself close the way Denton had been more than ready to hold him, before all that bull about him being about to force Jerry fell from the sky.
“You’re not making any sense, pet,” Denton said, trying his best to make sure there was one man in the room who didn’t sound like he was panicking. A pet might panic, a master couldn’t.
“Please don’t call me that,” Jerry said. He lifted his hand to his collar and traced the leather, the way he so often did when he was nervous. Then his hand dropped away from the mark. “You should take this back.”
“No!” Denton hadn’t meant to shout, hadn’t meant to make Jerry jump and press himself back against the wall, but the word echoed around the room, pushing Jerry even further away from him.
His lover closed his eyes. “Please, don’t make me take it off myself. If I don’t have any other choice I will, but please just…”
Denton stepped forward. “Jerry, you need to try and stay calm for me. If you tell your master what’s wrong, I can help you, but you have to talk to me so I can do that. Understand?”
Jerry shook his head. “I have to go,” he whispered. “You have to take the collar back and I have to go.”
“Why?”
Jerry looked down. “I have to,” he said again. “I…I can’t wear this anymore.”
He ran his fingers around the leather, looking for the buckle that would free it from his neck. His fingers scraped against his throat, scratching his skin as he scrabbled at the leather.
Denton didn’t think. Objectivity went out the window. He stepped forward and took hold of Jerry’s wrists before the younger man could hurt himself. Jerry gasped and flinched away as if he thought Denton would strike him.
Gentling his grip, Denton let go of Jerry’s wrists. “I have no interest in hurting you. But if you pull at your collar like that, you are going to hurt yourself. I can’t let that happen.”
Jerry looked up at him. Their eyes met. Desperation swirled in the deep blue eyes. “Please, take it off,” he begged.
Denton stared down at him. No matter how much the idea of taking the collar away turned his stomach, he couldn’t refuse him right then. Everything else aside, Jerry had said his safe word. Denton knew he didn’t have the right to refuse him whatever he asked for. He undid the buckle and took the collar away, hoping to earn a little of his lover’s trust back, hoping Jerry would calm down enough to talk rationally and that would let them get the collar back on him as quickly as possible.
“Thank you,” Jerry whispered. He seemed to bite back the honorific that naturally wanted to slip into the sentence. Denton’s hand tightened around the collar in his hand as he realised Jerry wasn’t calling him his master because right then he wasn’t his master. The realisation made it impossible to think calmly and logically about anything.
The younger man looked past Denton to the door. “I have to go now.”
“Where?” he asked, for what felt like the millionth time.
“I don’t know,” Jerry whispered. A frown gathered between his eyebrows as he said it, as if it really hadn’t occurred to him that he needed to choose a destination.
“Don’t you think you need to decide where you’re going before you leave?” Denton asked, as gently as he could, hating himself for not being able to keep his impatience out of his voice entirely.
Jerry looked to the door again. He shook his head, dismissing that idea, as if Denton was the one who wasn’t making any sense. Denton reached out to push the younger man’s hair back from his face without even thinking about the familiar little gesture. Jerry flinched away from him again.
Denton lowered his hand. Jerry stepped around him, heading for the door. Unable to touch him and see that expression in his eyes again, Denton had no choice but to let him walk past him and out of the playroom.
Any slight hope that moving to a different room would break Jerry’s panic disappeared as Jerry turned immediately towards the front door.
That snapped Denton into action. “Jerry!”
He hesitated, looking warily over his shoulder. “I have to…”
“You can’t go anywhere stark bollock naked!”
Jerry looked down at his exposed body. “I haven’t got any clothes,” he said to himself. He cleared his throat. “Could I borrow some, please? I’ll…I’ll pay you for them as soon as I get a job.”
“Jerry, you have a whole wardrobe full of clothes,” Denton reminded him, struggling to keep anything like tolerance in his tone while his lover seemed to become less and less rational about everything by the minute.
Jerry shook his head. “They all belong to you. The same way I used to belong to you. They aren’t mine.”
“They’re all four sizes too small for me. They’re yours, you know that.”
Jerry looked towards the bedroom they’d shared ever since he’d moved into his master’s home. His gaze fell on the clothes he’d been wearing that night, where Denton had tossed them in the general direction of the chair in the corner.
“If I could just borrow them until I—”
“Put them on,” Denton ordered.
Jerry quickly pulled his clothes on and headed for the door again.
“Jerry?” Denton called after him, not able to do more than that while every move he made towards his submissive made him panic even more.
For a moment, the younger man stopped with his hand on the door handle. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. A moment later the door was closed behind him and he was gone.
Denton raced across to the window, grabbing his mobile phone off the hallway table as he went. By the time he stared down into the street below, he’d hit speed dial and the phone was ringing.
He didn’t wait for the man on the other end to speak before he started issuing orders.
Jerry stood on the pavement outside his former master’s apartment building. He looked both ways along the deserted street and bit his lip as he tried to work out what the hell he was supposed to do now. He wrapped his arms tight around his body, wondering if it was actually as cold as it felt or if he was going into some sort of shock. A shiver ran through him. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Turning, he looked up the lines of windows that filled the side of the building, but he stopped short of his master’s window. It was stupid to think that his master…that his former master…would be there watching him. Jerry closed his eyes. Denton was probably glad to be rid of him. All things considered, he couldn’t blame him.
He had to go somewhere further away from his master. Standing there on the pavement, being so close to him, that would only tempt him to run back into the building and beg the other man to take him back. Right then, it felt like it would be worth any price, any lie, if it meant he could have that collar back around his throat, if it meant he was allowed to belong to his master again.
No. That couldn’t happen. Jerry repeated that fact to himself several times. There were things that were far more important than getting what he wanted. Some prices were too high.
Things were as they were now. They couldn’t go back to the way they were before. He had to go to…to a homeless shelter, he guessed. He was homeless after all, without the security of a master or mistress for the first time in his adult life. Jerry stared at the crack in the paving stones under his feet and tried to remember the names of some of those charity buckets he’d thrown coins in over the years.
A car came around the corner. Jerry stepped back closer to the building, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The car stopped alongside him. Jerry ignored it, hoping whoever was driving it would ignore him too. It wasn’t as if they lived in the middle of a red light district. There was no reason to think that any man stopping alongside him wanted anything more than directions from him. The panic boiling though his blood still made it impossible to really beli
eve that right then.
Jerry closed his eyes. If the guy in the car wanted more than that, then it might pay for a bed for the night if he could find his way to a cheap hotel after the guy was done with him. His eyes scrunched closed even tighter.
The car door opened.
Someone stepped out.
Jerry forced himself to look up.
Peter Vickery, his master’s friend, stood on the pavement in front of him.
“My master is—” Jerry cut himself off, unable to hold back a flinch at the out of date honorific. “Mr. Greenwood is upstairs, sir.”
“And what are you doing out here?”
“I don’t belong to him anymore, sir,” Jerry whispered.
“Do you want to stay with us?” Mr. Vickery asked, not showing the slightest surprise at the announcement, possibly because he didn’t sound incredibly sober.
Jerry shook his head.
“Benedict’s in the car. You’re welcome to use the guest room until you work out what you’re going to do next.”
Jerry looked from him to the car and back again. Benedict, Mr. Vickery’s submissive, sat behind the wheel. He smiled encouragingly when he caught Jerry’s eye.
“You know Benedict would have my balls on a platter if I laid a hand on another submissive,” Mr. Vickery said with a rueful smile. “I’m just offering you the room, I’m not asking for anything from you in return.”
Jerry swallowed, looking at the familiar face in front of him before turning his attention back to the deserted street. “I can work for my keep, sir.”
Mr. Vickery nodded his acceptance, as if he never doubted it, and stepped back to guide him in to the car.
“You’re not going to visit my…Mr. Greenwood?” Jerry asked as Benedict pulled away from the kerb and drove past the entrance to the visitor’s car park attached to the block of apartments.
Mr. Vickery seemed to hesitate. “No, there wasn’t anything important. We were just…uh…driving past and I thought we would…” he cleared his throat. “Are you hungry?”
Jerry shook his head, thinking he would be doing well if he made it to Mr. Vickery’s house before he threw up. “No, thank you, sir.”
When they got to the house, Mr. Vickery disappeared into his study to make a phone call, leaving Benedict to show him into the guest room.
“There’s an en-suite through there and there’s spare blankets on the shelf in the wardrobe. Do you want to borrow some pyjamas? We’re about the same size. I’ve got a spare pair I’ve never worn.”
Jerry looked down at his clothes, at the clothes that his master had bought for him. He ran his fingers along the edge of the shirt. “I’m fine in these, thank you.”
Benedict hovered just inside the doorway.
“Thank you for letting me stay here tonight. If…I can find somewhere else tomorrow if…”
Benedict shook his head. “Don’t be daft, you can stay here for as long as you want—until you and your master sort out things.”
Jerry stared at the carpet. “Things aren’t going to be sorted out,” he whispered.
“Maybe…” Benedict began.
Jerry shook his head. “What’s that thing they say—permanent and irreconcilable differences? I don’t belong to Mr. Greenwood anymore. He took his collar back, and I left and…and I don’t belong to him anymore.”
* * * *
“He must have said something!”
Denton stood up and began to pace around his friend’s living room. Peter and Benedict watched him go back and forth. He saw them exchange a glance.
“He must have told you what this is all about,” Denton accused, swinging around to Benedict.
The submissive looked to his master for guidance.
“If Jerry’s given you any explanation for his…for his breakdown, you should tell his master,” Peter said.
“He says Mr. Greenwood’s not his master anymore,” Benedict pointed out.
Denton clenched his teeth and fought to be polite and rational about it all. The man had information. Venting his temper wasn’t anywhere near as important as finding out what that information was.
Benedict saw his expression and seemed to realise he’d made a tactical error. He cleared his throat. “He hasn’t said much, sir. And I’ve never been able to make much sense out of the things he does blurt out sometimes. He said that he didn’t handle the situation very well, that he panicked.”
Denton nodded for him to continue and tell him something he didn’t know already.
“He said that a man like him couldn’t belong to a man like you anymore.” The submissive gave a frustrated sigh. “Practically the only thing I know for sure is that it all has something to do with him being bi.”
Bi, gay or straight be damned. The only things that were important now were those things that would help him get Jerry back with his master where he belonged. Anything else could be sorted out later. Every part of the dominant agreed with that.
“Practically,” Denton said, latching onto the word. “There’s something else?”
Benedict looked to his master again and received a nod to continue. “He’s still in love with you, sir.”
“He said that?” Denton demanded, for once not caring if the other two men saw how desperate he was for that to be true.
Benedict gave one nod. “I don’t think he meant to say it, it just sort of slipped out.”
“You still don’t know what went wrong?” Peter asked.
Denton collapsed back into one of the arm chairs opposite the sofa his friend sat on. “We were doing a scene and he just freaked out.” He frowned, running the scene over in his mind for what felt like the millionth time. “I was pushing him hard, taking him out of his comfort zone. But I didn’t touch on any of his hard limits. None that he’d ever told me about anyway…”
He took a deep breath. He’d known that challenging his pet that on the label he was so attached to would be difficult for him, but it didn’t feel as simple as that when he looked back on the night. Jerry hadn’t been angry, he hadn’t been resistant or stubborn. It seemed to go far deeper than that, but his own memories were so clouded with his own emotions, it was hard to be sure about anything. He’d been ready to have that conversation with Jerry, yeah, right…
“He didn’t have a mark on him,” Benedict observed.
“And you know that how?” Denton demanded, eyes narrowing as he glared at the submissive.
“Because I made sure I accidentally walked in on him in the shower, sir,” Benedict said, perfectly calmly. “He ran away from his master. He looked so terrified, like he was in so much pain. I wasn’t going to take the risk that he was hurt and was either too scared or too ashamed to tell either me or my master that he needed to see a doctor.”
Denton stared across at him. Benedict met his eyes without hesitation, obviously sure that he had done the right thing and not about to apologise for it.
Denton sighed. “Jerry would have done exactly the same thing in your place,” he acknowledged.
“And what are you going to do now?” Peter asked.
The answer was obvious. “I’m going to fix this.” That’s what masters did. Denton didn’t know exactly how he was going to do it, but he did know he was going to fix it—whatever it took.
Chapter Four
“I don’t play games. If you’re going to belong to me there will be no half measures.”
Jerry forced himself to stay very still, sure the dominant wouldn’t be impressed with a submissive who couldn’t even kneel at his feet for two minutes without fidgeting. “I understand, sir.”
Mr. Denton Greenwood stared down at him for several long seconds. Reaching forward he tucked a knuckle under his chin and tilted his head from side to side, examining him.
Jerry lifted his gaze and met the other man’s eyes.
“Fullerton has explained the situation to you.”
“Yes, sir.” He’d been aware that Mr. Greenwood and his current master had been discussing the p
ossibility of him moving under Mr. Greenwood’s protection when they parted ways. He’d been aware of every damn second of that time, while he waited as patiently as he could to be brought in on the discussions.
“And what have you found out about me?” Mr. Greenwood asked.
Jerry blinked at him. “I trust my master’s judgement, sir.”
“And I trust you’ve had the sense to speak to the other subs,” Mr. Greenwood said, a touch of amusement in his eyes.
Jerry dropped his gaze. The men he’d spoken to had been right. Mr. Greenwood obviously knew the way things really worked. “You’re a good master. You respect safe words and limits. Your punishments are harsh, but fair. Your previous submissives speak very highly of you, sir,” he recounted.
Mr. Greenwood nodded his acceptance of all that. “And you’re in favour of the arrangement?”
Jerry nodded. He hadn’t found any reason not to be in favour of it. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Greenwood looked past him, to where his current master stood behind him. He nodded his approval to the other dominant. In mere seconds, Fullerton had taken his collar off.
His new master took a new collar out of his pocket and put it around his neck. Leaning back in his chair, the older man studied the collar for a long time. “It will do until we decide if the arrangement will be permanent,” he announced.
Jerry swallowed, testing the feel of the leather around his neck. It felt good. He hadn’t enjoyed those seconds where his neck was bare at all. “Thank you, sir.”
“Master.”
“Yes,” Jerry agreed. “Thank you, master.”
His new master stood up and led him out of the club. He was aware of the dominant’s eyes on him, watching to see if his new pet had the sense not to look over his shoulder at his previous master now that he belonged to another man. Jerry kept his eyes forward, never looking to anyone other than his new master.
Thirty minutes later, they were in his new master’s apartment, standing in a very well equipped playroom. Shackles hung from the centre of the room. Toys were arranged in neat rows of hooks along one wall. A spanking bench stood in one corner. Jerry didn’t have time to take in a great deal else before the first order came.