Bi Now, Gay Later

by Kim Dare

  Jerry bit his lip, wondering what he should say. “How are you, sir?” he blurted out, as the silence demanded he fill it with something—with anything. He looked down, not sure if that sort of question was allowed now. It had been intended as a polite little query. It sounded more like a plea to be told every detail of everything his master had done since he’d taken his collar away.

  Denton ignored the question. “Tell me why you left.”

  Jerry looked to the door behind the curtain. Denton didn’t take his eyes off him.

  “I had to go,” he said.

  “No!”

  Jerry was shocked into meeting his master’s eyes.

  “No,” Denton repeated more calmly. “I’ve heard that much before. I need to know why.”

  Jerry swallowed. “I couldn’t stay,” he said. Too late, he realised he’d only re-worded the answer that had annoyed his master so much before. “My staying with you was hurting you and—”

  Denton stepped forward, he reached out to him, but he stopped just short of actually touching him. Jerry stood stock still, unable to bring himself to close that final little gap between them.

  “You’ve never hurt me,” Denton said, certainty about that fact clinging to ever syllable.

  Jerry looked down. Denton was always very certain about everything. He’d miss that certainty so much. He cleared his throat. “Owning me was turning you into someone who… With me being who I am… I just couldn’t… I had to…”

  “Damn it, Jerry!”

  He looked up at his master, eyes opened wide with shock. Denton closed his own eyes for a moment and Jerry could see how hard he was fighting to keep his temper.

  “Whole sentences,” the older man said, with obviously forced calm. “I know you find it hard sometimes. But if I’m going to understand whatever it is that you’re trying to tell me, I need you to focus, and I need you to give me whole sentences. Okay?”

  What he said was true, they had talked about it. Right at the start, before he’d even been given his permanent collar, let alone before he’d lost it. His master liked him to speak in whole sentences, even when it was difficult. Blushing when nervous was acceptable. Confusing his master was not.

  Jerry turned away from the other man and paced around the room, trying to form his thoughts into something that would make sense outside his own head.

  “Have you ever met someone who was homophobic, not just a prat who thinks those sorts of jokes are funny, the real thing?” he asked, as his pacing brought him to a stop in the middle of the room, his back to his master.

  Denton frowned. “Of course.”

  “Someone who said things like homosexuality doesn’t exist, or that it’s a phase or it’s a choice? Someone who told you it’s wrong for you to be the way you are, that they thought less of you for not being straight?”

  Denton’s frown deepened.

  Jerry turned back to his master, but he couldn’t look him in the eye when he said it. He closed his eyes. “That day in the play room, you were one step away from picking up a placard calling me a sin against nature. And I know you’re not that sort of man, master. But a bi man belonging to you was turning you into that sort of person and—”

  “Jerry,” Denton began.

  Turning his back to his master in an effort to force himself to finish what he started saying, Jerry realised that Denton did deserve a real explanation and that he couldn’t stop until it was given.

  “You’d never have said those things before I belonged to you,” Jerry whispered. “I couldn’t stay to watch you turn into that sort of person. It would have been hell enough to watch the man I love turn into some petty minded bigot, but knowing I was at the root of it all. I just couldn’t do that. I had to go. I had to.”

  Denton stopped within inches of touching Jerry. He stared down at the back of his bowed head and tried to think of something to say to take the hurt out of his lover’s voice. He tried to think of the right words that would show Jerry the truth behind the things he’d said to him that night. It took far too long to bring the side of his personality that could talk about the situation rationally to the surface, but he finally managed it.

  “I don’t care who any man or woman wants to screw. As long as they’re legal and consenting, I don’t give a damn,” he said, carefully.

  Jerry continued to keep his back to him.

  “Turn around, look at me.”

  He did as he was told, probably more from the habit of obeying his master than anything else, but Denton was willing to take would he could get.

  “Look up.”

  He did that too. He looked so confused, so scared of everything. Denton’s fingers twitched as he fought the instinct to pull him close and wrap his arms around him. He no longer had the right to do that. Jerry had made that quite clear when he stated that anything that happened between them would take place without his consent. The primitive, possessive part of Denton still wanted to do it so badly he could taste it.

  “I can’t let you turn into someone like that,” Jerry whispered again, his eyes pleading with him for understanding. “I love you too much to let that happen, master.”

  Denton stared down at him. In all the reasons he’d dreamed up explaining Jerry’s sudden departure, it had never occurred to him that he could believe he left for his master’s benefit.

  It never occurred to him that he might say he was bi because it was true either. But, as he listened to the emotions hanging on every word Jerry said, it became impossible to believe that he was clinging to a lie that made him feel better about being gay. It hadn’t made him feel better. It hadn’t made it easy. But, he still hadn’t lied.

  Denton closed his eyes for a moment as he realised his pet hadn’t actually told him anything new. Everything he’d needed in order to see what Jerry said was the truth must have been there in his submissive from the start, but he’d never been willing to listen before. It had taken Jerry’s panicked flight to scare the primal dominant inside him to admit the possibility Jerry could actually be telling the truth when he claimed the bi label.

  Denton took a deep breath. If Jerry could calm himself enough to explain himself, it was about time he learnt to do the same.

  “I’m your master.”

  Jerry went to speak. Denton silenced him with one raised hand. “You’ve had your say. Now it’s your master’s turn.”

  Jerry nodded his understanding. His lip would start bleeding if he didn’t stop biting it soon.

  “Sit down, and just listen.” Denton directed him to the edge of the bed with a look. Jerry did as he was told, sitting down without trying to speak again.

  Denton crouched in front of him, blocking any sort of escape route without actually touching him.

  “Everything I said to you was about you and me, no one else. I don’t give a damn about anyone else. Do I like the idea of you being bi? No.” Denton sighed and looked down at his hands.

  Jerry stayed silent and motionless. Denton was half sure he was even holding his breath.

  “But none of it has bugger all to do with bi-phobia, pet. I’d be just as irrational if you announced a secret fetish for Australians or blonds or submissives or… or astronauts. The rest of the world can screw who they want. But I don’t want you to want anything your master isn’t.”

  Jerry dropped his gaze.

  “You belong to me, Jerry. And I’m hellishly possessive—you must know that by now. So, no, the idea that you could suddenly take it into your head that you want to run off with a woman—it doesn’t sit well with me. Are you really that surprised?”

  Jerry didn’t raise his eyes.

  Denton mentally rolled his eyes at himself. This was why dominants shouldn’t fall in love with their submissives. Not only did it let them convince themselves they were in control enough of their own emotions to lead a scene when in hindsight they blatantly bloody well weren’t, it also led to far too much soppiness, and to far too many situations that called for embarrassing confessions too.<
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  Knowing all that, Denton pushed on regardless, thankful that he’d found a way to have this conversation with Jerry out of the earshot of the other men in the club if nothing else.

  “Even if I wasn’t in love with you, you’re my ideal, pet—everything about you. Knowing that you can’t say the same about your master is—”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Jerry cut in. “I know I’m supposed to wait my turn, master, but, please, it doesn’t work like that.”

  Denton nodded once, giving him permission to continue.

  “I’d love you just as much if you were a woman,” Jerry blurted out. The words rushed together in his haste to have them heard, but they were whole words, whole ideas, which was always a welcome surprise when his pet was stressed. “The part of you I love isn’t male or female. I’m not in love with the part of you that makes you a man.”

  Denton couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that.

  Jerry seemed to realise what he’d said, and in spite of everything, he blushed. “I’m not saying I don’t like your cock. You know that. I’ve begged for it often enough that you must know I…” He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, I belong to the bit of you that’s you. I love the bit of you that is you. It’s not about wanting men and women, I’m attracted to people—they happen to be men or women, but I really don’t care one way or the other.”

  Denton stayed still and silent, wary that any move might spook his lover and stop the steady flow of words. If he could just keep Jerry able to offer up full sentences, and himself able to keep a lid on his anger, they might have a chance.

  “I don’t think of you as a man, master. I don’t think of you as a dominant or British or someone who’s tall or dark or anything else. You’re you. You’re my master and I love you. Nothing else matters. I can’t change any of that. I can’t lie about it.”

  Denton met his eyes and he saw the truth in them, not just in those words he’d said out loud, but in the words he kept back as well. He heard the desperate need to be understood, to have that part of his psyche recognised and accepted.

  Jerry swallowed rapidly, as if his emotions were about to get the better of him. Denton nodded his understanding, releasing him from the pressure to try to explain anything any further.

  He knew what he needed to know now. He knew what had to happen next. For once, every part of his mind agreed easily on one course of action. He stood up and Jerry rose to his feet too.

  It took more strength of will than Denton was aware he possessed to take a step back from him.

  “Master?” Jerry asked. He reached out. He offered himself to him, but he stopped short of actually touching him, giving his master the right to reach out and make the final contact as and when he chose.

  Denton stared down at him for a long time before he could make his throat work and be sure his words would come out slow and steady and dominant. “You should go and find Peter and Benedict. It’s getting late. No doubt they’ll want to go home soon.”

  “I…”

  For several long seconds, Jerry looked up at him, hope burning then dying in his eyes. His gaze dropped to his hand as it fell back to his side. A moment later his hand rose to his throat, sliding against his bare neck, following the line where his old collar had caressed his skin. He laid his hand over the side of his neck as if trying to protect the suddenly vulnerable skin from further damage.

  He looked up at Denton again, so hurt and obviously so embarrassed to have said all that only to be turned away. If Denton had any doubt over how many people Jerry had given that explanation to, they evaporated. He knew he was the only one Jerry had said those words too. In spite of all that, Denton forced himself to stay perfectly still.

  Jerry pawed at the curtains until he found the door and left the room in silence, closing the door quietly behind him on the way out. Denton leaned against the wall next to the door and stared at the empty room without really seeing it.

  It was better for Jerry that his master should send him away. He knew that. It still didn’t stop him feeling like a complete bastard.

  Chapter Five

  “I really don’t mind staying here by myself,” Jerry tried again.

  “It will do you good to get out of the house.” Benedict took a shirt out of his wardrobe and held it in front of Jerry, checking the tone against his skin.

  Jerry didn’t need to check. He knew it was the perfect colour for him. His master had bought him an almost identical shirt, and he’d never failed to quietly nod his approval every time he saw him wearing it.

  “You and Mr. Vickery should go by yourselves,” Jerry suggested. “I know it must be hard for both of you, having a stranger in your house all the time, and…”

  Benedict brushed that aside. “We both love having you here.” He considered the colour of the shirt again and laid it out on the bed before he extracted a pair of jeans and a pair of boots from the wardrobe to go with them.

  They were all almost indistinguishable from the clothes his master had bought him to wear while he lived with him. Jerry was sure Benedict meant it for the best, trying to give him things that were familiar, but it didn’t help. It just made it all the harder to push away the memories that constantly threatened to over-power him. There were days when he got dressed and he was sure he could smell his master’s aftershave on clothes that had never been anywhere near his master.

  “We’ll have to do something with your hair,” Benedict said.

  “My master never liked me to—” Jerry cut himself short. His master had made it quite clear that he liked to be able to run his hands through his hair without getting stabbed by gel spikes or tangled in some complicated style. Jerry shook his head at himself as he tried and failed to convince himself that Denton’s opinion wasn’t important any more. “Whatever you think is best.”

  Benedict hesitated. “It looks great as it is.”

  Jerry closed his eyes. Benedict was being nice. Mr. Vickery and Benedict were both being very nice and very kind to him, which just made him feel even worse for not being at all inclined to go out to a club with them that night. “Benedict?”

  The other submissive made a noncommittal sound as he fussed about setting the things on Jerry’s bedside table straight.

  “You and your master haven’t…you’re not trying to set me up with anyone, are you?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Benedict…” Jerry began. Just because he knew that Denton had no intention of taking him back, that didn’t mean he could just flip a switch and be ready to look for a new master or mistress.

  Benedict fixed a bright smile onto his lips. “Why don’t you just get ready? You’ll feel much more cheerful when you get to the club and see everyone.”

  Jerry pinned an equally fake smile to his own lips and nodded.

  * * * *

  “You like that, don’t you, pet?”

  Jerry nodded as the blush raced to his cheeks. He’d long ago given up on the idea he would ever be able to submit to his master without seeing the older man’s lips quirk in amusement at his heightened colour. At least at that moment, his head was bowed and, although Denton would inevitably guess it was there, he couldn’t actually see it.

  His master’s hand came down on his other buttock. Jerry closed his eyes. An image flashed up before his eyes of stark red hand marks on pale skin. His collar shifted around his throat as he rocked forward. He let out a whimper.

  Denton stroked his palm over the heated skin on his backside. His hand disappeared for a second before it connected first to his right cheek then to his left in quick succession.

  Sharp spikes of pleasure raced through Jerry’s body. He arched his back, pushing his backside out for more as his master went back to stroking him very gently. His movements made no difference to his lover’s touch. He received exactly what his master wanted him to—no more, no less.

  “I remember someone telling me that he didn’t like to be spanked,” Denton mused.

 
; Giving up on getting a firmer touch until his master was quite ready to provide one, Jerry squirmed forward again. The restraints built into the spanking bench didn’t allow him much freedom. He couldn’t obtain even the slightest friction against his aching cock. All he could do was wait upon his master’s pleasure.

  Two more quick spanks and Denton’s knuckle stroked down between his buttocks and across his hole. Jerry bit his lip to hold back a plea. It felt like months rather than days since his master had let him come.

  His legs were held apart, each knee resting on its own padded support as his upper body lay across another leather covered surface. It might have been labelled ‘spanking’ but it always seemed to Jerry that the man who designed it had never intended the submissive strapped to the beautiful structure to be available just for that.

  He knew it would be hours before Denton would likely make use of the inviting position the bench placed him in. He liked to build up the heat slowly. His master liked to watch him squirm and hear him beg before he gave him what the spanking made him crave more than anything—a hard cock pressed against his hole rather than a bare knuckle.

  Just as he expected, his master’s attention didn’t linger there very long. His hand dropped further down between his legs. His fingers stroked his balls.

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  Jerry frowned, trying and failing to pull the scattered pieces of his mind together and focus on anything that wasn’t the warm hand palming his testicles.

  “Master?” he managed to stutter out.

  “You told me you didn’t like being spanked.”

  Jerry whimpered again. He swallowed rapidly as he scrambled for control. “That was before, master.”

  “Before what?” Denton asked, still manipulating the tight sacs.

  “Before you,” Jerry whispered.

  Denton was silent for a few seconds, but Jerry could feel his mood change and he knew his master was pleased with the answer. He liked being spanked by his master. Denton was the only man or woman he had ever belonged to that could make it feel like it wasn’t a punishment. With Denton it felt perfect.