by Kim Dare
No other words were spoken on the subject. Denton released his handhold on his sacs and went back to stroking his buttocks. A few seconds later his hand struck. This time it was different. No more teasing. His honest answer had obviously earned him the pleasure of a proper spanking. Denton set up his rhythm, alternating between cheeks, coating the skin with an even layer of heat that soaked into his body and sent pleasure shooting through his veins.
Ten minutes later, he was half sure that his master was determined to make him come from nothing more than his hand striking his arse. But, he was only half sure. If he was wrong, Denton might be angry with him for spoiling his plans for something else.
Jerry whimpered at the idea. With his master’s approval still strong in his mind, the last thing he wanted was for Denton to suddenly be disappointed in him.
“Permission?” he whispered. “Please?”
“Permiss—”
“Hello again.”
It took Jerry several long seconds to focus back in on reality, but his smile for Mr. Nolan was slightly more genuine than it had been for any of the dozens of other men who approached him that night and pulled him from his memories. “Hello, sir.”
The older man smiled down at him rather sympathetically. “Come and sit with me.” It was definitely an order not an invitation.
Jerry hesitated for a moment before he followed the other man. When Mr. Nolan sat on one of the stools that lined the bar, Jerry didn’t immediately hop up onto the stool next to him, and not just because he hadn’t received an order to do so.
“Sir, I don’t mean to be impolite,” he began.
“I’m not suggesting you should offer me your submission.”
Jerry hesitated again.
“You’re obviously not ready for anything like that. But I’ve been watching you for over an hour, and as the evening wears on, it’s increasingly painful to see you trying to nod and smile politely at all the dominants hitting on you. No one will bother you while you are speaking to me.”
Jerry looked at the stool.
“You don’t need my permission.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jerry slipped up onto the bar stool, placing his Coke on the dark wooden surface. He stared into his drink not sure what an uncollared submissive was supposed say to a dominant who he wasn’t hoping would be his master.
“When was the last time you were without a master?” Mr. Nolan asked him.
“The day before I turned legal,” Jerry whispered. “I’ve never really been without a dominant.” He held onto his glass very tightly, trying not to give in to the temptation to cover his bare neck, trying not to retreat into the memories he’d hid in more and more often over the last few days.
“It must be hard.”
Jerry swirled his drink a little. “I never realised how hard it would be,” he whispered. “How lost I would feel. Maybe it’s…I cared for my other dominants, but I wasn’t in love with them, sir. Not like with my…with Mr. Greenwood.”
“That’s why you’re taking some time before you look for a new master this time around?”
Jerry nodded. “Maybe I should look for a mistress instead,” he mused.
“You’re bi then?”
He nodded again. “I wish I wasn’t, but…” He sighed and wished he had a stronger drink in front of him, too. His master had let him have a drink or two now and then, not enough to get properly drunk, but just the right amount to get a bit happy on it. “Mr. Vickery said that I wasn’t to drink anything with any alcohol in it.”
He glanced across and saw that Mr. Nolan was watching him with obvious appreciation and no small touch of amusement.
“I’m sorry, sir, I really don’t know how to talk to anyone when I’m like this.”
“You’re doing fine.”
Jerry turned his attention back to his drink.
“Tell me about Greenwood.”
“Why?” Jerry asked, suddenly unsure he should be talking to the dominant at all.
“Because you’re obviously still in love with him.”
“He doesn’t want me anymore, sir,” Jerry said.
“Does he know how you feel about him?”
Jerry nodded. “I told him,” he whispered. He must have said it a dozen times in that back room as he struggled to make his master understand.
“And what did he say?”
Jerry shook his head, unwilling to let memories of that night in the club back into his head. Happier memories were allowed to linger as long as they wanted, but nothing to do with that night when he’d finally had to admit to himself that it was over forever. He couldn’t think of that and stay sane.
“Why are you being so nice to me, sir?”
“Because you seem to need to talk to someone who isn’t trying to screw you. And because you remind me of someone,” Mr. Nolan said.
Jerry turned to him, latching on to the hope that talking about someone else’s memories might push that night out of his head. “Who, sir?”
“His name was Frank.”
“Was?” Jerry asked.
“He died last year.”
“Oh…I’m sorry, sir.”
Mr. Nolan nodded once in acceptance of his sympathy, but he seemed to have reached the stage where he was resigned to the facts of the matter.
“He belonged to you?” Jerry asked, cautiously.
“Yes, for the best part of a lifetime.”
“Was it…?” Jerry trailed off. A tendency to blurt things out when he was nervous really didn’t excuse some questions.
“AIDs?” Mr. Nolan asked. “No, nothing like that. A car accident. He was sober. The other driver wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Jerry said again.
“He was very like you.”
Jerry nibbled at his lip. “Would it make you feel better if I—?” He cut himself off, not even knowing what he had intended to offer the other man. Before he’d belonged to Denton he wouldn’t have thought twice about offering such a dominant whatever he wanted. Now, it was different.
Mr. Nolan smiled half sadly, but still with a touch of amusement in his eyes. “I think that this is one of those times when it’s best for misery not to take advantage of its company.”
Jerry nodded and turned back to his drink. In a weird sort of way sitting with Mr. Nolan was comforting. The older man didn’t expect him to be happy. He didn’t expect him to be able to cope or to be able to bounce back into the game and find another master as easily as he would pick out a new book from the library.
For the first time since he’d left his master’s protection, Jerry felt a tiny bit of peace settle around him. For a few moments, the whole mess seemed survivable. If Mr. Nolan had survived losing Frank, then maybe there was hope for him yet.
“Gentlemen, your attention, please!”
Jerry turned towards the small stage at the other end of the room, where public announcements and punishments were conducted. Every other man in the room did the same. The ripple of chatting voices hushed to a murmur. The bartender got down from the stage to let the man who’d requested the opportunity to make a public announcement, get up onto the raised platform in his place.
All the blood drained from Jerry’s face as he watched his master’s head and shoulders appear over the top of the crowd. From the far side of the room, he automatically tried to make out the head of another man waiting to step onto the platform with him.
There was only one reason why his master would step up there that night—to give a new collar to a new submissive, to make Jerry’s replacement official. All the air rushed out of the room. Jerry wanted to close his eyes, but his body wasn’t obeying his orders. His eyes stayed wide open, staring across the room at his master.
He scrambled at his store of memories, trying to latch on to some happy moment and pull it tight around him like a protective little shell. It didn’t work. Blocking out the rest of the world was one thing. He couldn’t ignore his master.
“Jerry,” he heard someone say to his
left.
He couldn’t remember who was sitting there. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from his master to look. Standing up, he took a shaky step forward, not sure where he was trying to go. All he knew was that he couldn’t sit there and watch his master fall in love with someone else right there on the stage in front of him.
A hand gripped his arm, stopping him short. Jerry followed the arm attached to the hand until he reached a pair of concerned blue eyes. He took a step away from Mr. Nolan, because the older man wasn’t his master, and because that’s what a submissive was supposed to do when a man who wasn’t his master took hold of him.
He didn’t bother to take a second step away, by that time he’d remembered there wasn’t any point. “It’s really over,” he whispered.
Mr. Nolan looked sadly down at him, obviously not sure what to say. Jerry stared back up at him. It could be worse. If he had to find a new master, he could do a lot worse than accept a collar from Mr. Nolan. He would make a kind, and probably an indulgent, master. Jerry was sure the dominant would give him time to get over Denton before he expected anything more than quiet companionship from him. Filling the gap that his previous submissive’s death had left in Mr. Nolan’s life would be—
“I have an announcement to make.” Denton’s voice cut through every sound in the room and every thought in Jerry’s head, calling Jerry to his side. He turned back towards his master, staring at him through blurry eyes as he looked across the room.
He swayed slightly and felt Mr. Nolan put his arm around his shoulders, supporting him in case he should buckle completely before this horrible charade was over.
“The way gossip spreads around this place, I’m sure you’re all well aware that, as of two weeks ago, Jerry Clarke was released from my protection.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Jerry lifted his hand to cover his neck as the men closest to him turned to stare. Mr. Nolan’s arm tightened around him, silently offering him his support.
“It wasn’t a break or a trial or any of that bull. It was a permanent separation.”
Jerry’s hand rubbed at the skin on his neck. It burned all around where his collar should have been.
“I’ve always believed that it’s a master’s place to possess, and it’s a submissive’s place to belong to his master in every way one man can belong to another. In every way,” he stressed.
Jerry dropped his gaze and stared at the floor just in front of his feet.
“Love doesn’t come into it. That’s best left to the vanilla boys who don’t understand what leather really means. Love doesn’t come into it, until you’re fool enough to actually fall in love with the man under your protection.”
Jerry closed his eyes. Denton always did things at a far faster pace than the rest of the world. If he was able to bounce back into the game this soon, there was no reason why he shouldn’t have already found time to fall in love with his new submissive, too.
“And then possessing is not enough, controlling a man is not enough. Suddenly it’s vital that you fill the other man’s entire world, and to make a complete bastard out of yourself in the process.”
For a few moments, silence filled the room. Denton ran his eyes over the crowd, as if wanting to be sure that everyone was giving him their complete attention before he continued.
“I live in a world that’s black and white. Dominant and submissive, top and bottom, gay and straight. I never expected to fall in love with a man who didn’t see the world in the same way as me.”
The first time his master had ever said that he loved him out loud in front of anyone else, and it was only to tell everyone he wasn’t a good enough submissive to keep that love. Jerry lifted his eyes and looked at all the men staring at him. Everyone was going to think that Denton had disowned him because he’d forgotten his place as a submissive, that his submission wasn’t good enough to keep.
Jerry turned his back on his former master, on the man standing up on that stage and neatly destroying his chances of ever finding another good man to belong to. He looked up at Mr. Nolan, hoping his master’s words hadn’t already put the older man off.
“If your offer is still open, sir, I’d be honoured if you’d let me belong to you.”
Mr. Nolan smiled slightly and stroked his cheek with the back of his knuckles. When he saw the look in his eyes, Jerry knew he was making the right decision. Mr. Nolan would be a good master. Mr. Nolan wouldn’t make him stay there and listen to any more of what his previous master said to the rest of the room.
Chapter Six
Denton scanned the crowd for what felt like the thousandth time but he still failed to catch sight of the reason why he was standing up on that little stage making a damn fool of himself.
All his well rehearsed words ran around in his head swirling together so fast, he was half sure that nothing he said made any sense at all. He wished like hell he hadn’t been too proud to write out some cue cards. He wished he’d managed to catch a glimpse of Jerry so he could be sure that Peter and Benedict had succeeded in dragging him to the club that night.
Swallowing down any stutter before it could make itself into his words, Denton pushed on.
“But sometimes the best things in love aren’t simple. They aren’t black or white. And sometimes the best men aren’t simple either. Sometimes they aren’t even straight or gay.”
Another sweep of his eyes across the room and he still couldn’t see him. He’d assumed Jerry would have been well visible by this point. He’d imagined that his lover would have been right at the front of the crowd and he would have been able to look into Jerry’s eyes while he made such a soppy, bloody fool of himself.
It never occurred to him that he would have had to make his confession to a room full of men and not even be able to judge how well his apology was going down with his lover.
Denton took a deep breath. Feeling more foolish than he ever had in his life, he forced himself to keep going.
“I’ve only ever had one idea of what my perfect submissive would be like. Jerry is my ideal in every way. My ideal lover. My ideal submissive. My ideal man. He’s the only man I’ve ever really loved. That’s why I’m up here asking him to forgive me. That’s why I’m asking him to come back under my protection, even though I don’t fulfil the same single simple ideal for him.”
Taking a length of black leather from his back pocket, he held it up so the silver buckle could catch the light of all those shining bulbs pointing directly at the stage. The leather felt stiff and unfamiliar in his hand. For a moment he had the horrible feeling that those in the front row might notice his fingertips tremble as he held the collar out for everyone to see.
“Jerry, if you accept my protection, come back to your master,” he said.
The room was deadly silent. Every one of the men in the club, dominant and submissive alike, seemed to stare at the collar and hold his breath as they all waited for Jerry to step forward and give Denton his answer.
The silence stretched on. Men began to look around, whispering to their neighbours. Denton stayed frozen where he was, waiting in front of the whole club for any sign of Jerry.
Another minute passed, and Denton started to wonder what the worst case scenario was. That he’d just said all that to a crowd of men that didn’t actually include his submissive, or that Jerry was there, but wasn’t able to forgive him.
The idea of Jerry being there but having no interest in joining him on the stage made a cold sweat break out on his skin. He could live with making a fool of himself for someone who wasn’t there. Hell, Denton was pretty sure he could even get back up on the stage and do this bloody stupid stunt again on another night when Jerry was there.
But Jerry had to forgive him once he saw it. He had to, because Denton had no doubt that Jerry would have taken him back while they stood in the back room of the club a week ago.
Denton looked out over the men again. They were starting to get restless and nervous on his behalf now. Denton cursed himself for a foo
l.
He should have collared Jerry back there, when they were alone in that room together. Any sane man would have brought a man like Jerry back to his heel at the very first chance that came his way. But no, he had to get some stupid idea that Jerry needed to see his master pay his penance, that he needed to hear him say his apology as publicly as he’d dismissed bisexuality so many times in the past, and now…
At the back of the room, a man looked over his shoulder and stepped to one side. Another man did the same. Like dominos, the men down the centre of the room parted as someone smaller than them nudged his way through the crowed space. By the time the ripple had reached half way down the room, the men ahead of the wave were ahead of the game and stepping back to make way.
Jerry stepped between the men, the club lights illuminating every inch of his naked body. Eyes lowered, he walked barefoot across the floor, and knelt on the edge of the stage in front of his master.
The murmur of voices cut back to silence. Denton stared down at the top of Jerry’s head. Still frozen in place, he didn’t know how to reach out to him. Right then he wasn’t sure he had the courage to risk his lover pulling away from him as he had that horrifying night back at their house.
Jerry silently bowed down in front of him until his head rested on the floor barely an inch in front of his master’s feet, filling the gap in proceedings when his master fought to pull himself together as if it was all part of some perfectly choreographed scene worked out months in advance.
“As you were,” Denton said. The words seemed to echo around the silent room.
Jerry rose once more to his knees, his hands hanging idly at his sides, his head still bowed.
“Look at your master.”
Jerry slowly tilted his head back, letting his master see his face and look directly into his eyes. They were so full of emotion, Denton reached for him without thinking about anything more than a need to comfort the younger man.