“Oh, you didn't seriously think it would be that easy, did you? There's something else I need to do first...” Another tease and denial. He picked up a shortish cat of nine tails—a series of leather straps that he used to smack at my upper thighs. “Since you forgot what the whip fell like.”
Ouch. Thighs are very sensitive. Especially inner thighs.
“Please,” I said. “Oh, please, you're setting me on fire here.”
He laughed and dropped the cat and danced back to slide on the rubber, then pushed himself hard against me. Yet again, our hard cocks were trapped between our hard bellies—clearly a favorite position for him and, thus, for me.
“Yes,” I moaned.
His knees bent and his ass rotated as he positioned the head of his cock to nudge first at my taint and then directly on the puffy opening to my already-dilated hole. His belly crushed my cock harder than ever.
“Ask for it.”
Of course. “Fuck me standing. Please. Now.” I couldn't even be embarrassed anymore about the intensity with which I begged.
Despite the earlier fuck, his arrowhead felt bigger than my opening until the moment he straightened his knees and I felt myself stretch and spread. His cock lifted and thrust, and then he was inside of me again, exactly where he belonged.
I let myself slump in the manacles. Let his cock do its dance from the inside-out to hit me in the crucial place. My own cock was getting pounded over and over by his slapping body. This was crude and raw and hot as fuck.
“I need this,” I said. “I need this so bad.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We both need this.”
And then we were coming together, hard and hot, the way he emptied deep inside of me burning me in places I'd never thought I could be touched.
“You belong to me,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “I know. Oh, God, how I know. How I love your cock. How I love you.” Was it too soon to say that word? Probably, but I didn't care. I was beyond caring about anything except letting him in to see the real me.
I trusted him. There was no more playing polar bear. No more pretending to be chill. There was just me and him and the things we really felt for each other.
His hands were gentle as he unbuckled each of the fur-lined cuffs in turn.
There was a real bed in this hotel. Maybe there were many of them, but I only saw the one. There was a point when we were going up a flight of wooden steps, Brayden carrying me as if I weighed nothing, my sweaty body dead weight in his arms. My thoughts, if I was capable of thought, were slow and far away. After a minute, I realized it might be easier if I wrapped my arms around his neck.
The aftermath was like a dream. Nothing that felt so warm and delicious could possibly be real.
The first door that was open, that's the door he carried me through. It turned out to lead into a dim room, the only light a single electric candle in a wall niche, but it was enough to show a king-sized bed with a multi-colored quilt turned down to reveal the soft white sheets. He spread me out on the bed, and I reached up.
“That wasn't just sex talking before.” I made a point of gazing directly into those golden eyes. “I love you, Brayden.”
Without breaking our gaze, he let me pull him down on top of me. We should have been overheated, but it was a pleasant warmth. A glow.
The intensity of those eagle eyes burned into me. For a minute, I wondered if I should have said, “sir,” instead of using his first name, but we both knew the time for playing games was over.
He touched a finger to the dimple between my nose and mouth. “I knew it wasn't just sex talking, Nicky. I think a part of me has always known there's something different about the pull between us.” He took a deep breath, and his nostrils flared from the good masculine scent of our sex-stained bodies. “I love you, too, Nicky. I didn't realize how much I loved you, until I thought I lost you.”
Epilogue
A year later
My name is Brayden Brent. I'm a songwriter, a teacher, and a founding member of a private BDSM community that shares a secret location somewhere in the Gila National Forest region of southeastern New Mexico.
What I believe:
I believe in the power of leadership. A wise leader knows when to command, but he also knows when to listen. Without the power of command, a man achieves nothing. Without the ability to listen, he lacks the wisdom to know what he should achieve.
I believe in the power of trust. The man who cannot trust is forever alone, and the solitary man cannot change even himself, much less the world.
I believe in the power of surrender to something greater than yourself. A man who cannot surrender to something greater is forever locked inside of his own skull, a prisoner of society's programming.
I believe there is a dom within every true sub, and I believe there is a sub within every true dom. I believe in the importance of acknowledging the whole man.
♫♫♫
That morning, Nicky didn't know he was trembling or that his trembling was beautiful to me. He wore a pair of leather chaps, stiff and new, complete with a thick leather belt that rode low thanks to its collection of heavy tools.
Nicky picked up the hood and turned it over in his hands... but he wasn't Nicky today. I couldn't think of him as Nicky.
Today, he was my dom. Today, I stood there naked in front of him.
It was the final test. The one that scared him the most. Not that he'd ever admit to being scared by anything. My Nicky would face down a mountain lion, and it would be the lion that broke and ran.
Confronting his father to tell him he didn't want to go to law school was probably the biggest mountain lion he'd stared down this year. Nicky had turned out to be a good lyricist, and he teamed up first with me and then with some other musicians. He'd had an early hit—I admit it didn't hurt that I was able to put him in touch with good contacts in the industry—and it didn't make sense not to pursue this opportunity.
His father grumbled but only until he'd seen the first royalty report. Then there was no bigger booster of Nicholas Pembroke Kensington the Third's writing talent than Nicholas Pembroke Kensington the Second.
None of that mattered here and now. For the time being, his only name was Master.
“Kneel,” he said, his voice thick.
I knelt. The grass tickled. I'd forgotten how the grass tickled sensitive skin when you knelt.
“Show me the hand signal. Just this once. The next time, it's the end of the game.”
I made a finger gun and aimed it at his heart.
“Good. If at any time it gets too intense...” His voice wobbled ever so slightly. Inexperienced doms were at the highest risk of causing an accidental injury. He was putting a lot of trust in me, but his trust wasn't misplaced. I was paying attention like I'd never paid attention to anyone ever before. I'd safeword if I needed to, and I wouldn't safeword if I didn't need to.
He could trust me without question, just as I could trust him without question.
Nicky—no, not Nicky, not now—my master put the hood over me and stood close while he adjusted the straps. His deft fingers tugged and buckled, and soon I was completely in the dark. His hands grasped my hands, pulling them together behind my back for the cuffs.
“Up,” he said.
It's difficult for a hooded, cuffed man of thirty-five to get to his feet from his knees. I couldn't have made a pretty sight as I wiggled and pushed myself off the ground.
Naked, hooded, cuffed, I allowed him to take my elbow to lead where he willed. My toes felt their way along a dirt path that was more than animal track, less than road. An old logging trail, I guessed. There were plenty of them just outside filthy town, as he still called it, even though I'd long since told him its true name.
He stopped for a moment and slipped his thumbs into the dimples at the small of my back. A possessive gesture. Sexy too. My cock stretched and lifted. I bet his cock did too. Wiggling, I tried to nudge him in the appropriate place.
“Not
much farther.” He cupped my balls for a moment, a tease. Then he was holding only my elbow to walk me forward.
I stepped in a shock of something cold. It was August, but evidently we'd climbed high enough to reach snow.
Hypothermia, I thought. Those silly ice baths Nicky used to take. Maybe he still didn't take the danger seriously. The spike of fear hit me harder than I would have expected, especially since I'd seen for myself how all subs have to push through that moment of fear.
My master laughed a low and throaty laugh. “I'm naked too.” When? How silently he must have stripped.
Nicky—no, not Nicky but my master—took hold of my cuffed wrists to pull me closer. Somehow, my bare ass was bumped up against his pelvis. The spike of his stiff cock pressed between my cheeks. He swooshed it up and down, fast but not too firmly, creating more of an illusion of friction than the actuality.
Teasing bastard.
“Trust me. We're not going to get frostbite. I'll find a way to keep us warm.”
“I do trust you.” The moment of doubt was a throwback to an outdated version of Nicky.
We may have walked another quarter mile before we stopped again. The patches of snow were more frequent, judging from the chill and the careful way my master led me forward to make sure I wouldn't step into any others.
“Stop.” A hand on my bare hip.
I stopped.
The air was strange up here—some scent of crisp and cool, with an underlying hint of sulfur. My master unclicked my cuffs and pulled them off my wrists. I shook out my hands without needing to be told. They tingled slightly, but they were fine.
“Take off the hood.”
I felt behind my head for the buckles. It was a laborious process to remove it for myself, knowing all the while my master was standing there waiting. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to make him wait too long. A riding crop snapped out to connect with my ass.
“I haven't got all day.”
“Sorry, sir.”
He touched the riding crop ever-so-lightly against the crown of my cock. A threat, a promise?
Both.
When I tugged off the hood, I found myself at the green edge of a little pool with a whisper of mist rising from it.
“I'm not a huge fan of thermal shock, sir,” I said. “As you know.”
“Trust.”
He'd trusted me, and I could do no less. With a nod, I took his hand, and somehow we were running and jumping and laughing, and then we were splashing into the misty pool, and then he sort of stopped running all of a sudden, and we both slipped on the mud, and we sat down laughing. It was a perfect one hundred and five degrees. A natural hot spring.
“So, no polar bear plunge today,” I said.
“Nope, not today.” He was beaming in delight, his beautiful face so young and innocent in that moment. “You like my surprise?”
“You know I do. Except...”
“I know. If we stay in too long, this heat will make us lazy. So...” With a laugh, he smacked me on the shoulder to get me back on my feet, and then he slapped me on the ass, and then we were out of the spring and tumbling together across a field where our sleeping bags were already spread out.
“I want to look into your eyes when I take you,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “I want that too.”
And then he was on top of me, a little clumsy, but I liked it better that way, because it felt real and it felt like my master and like Nicky too, both sides of him in that hot tight body crouched over me. He was gooping an abundance of lube in the palm of his hand to warm it up to our body temperature, more lube than normal because you always come out of hot water a little dry. Then he was slipsliding greased fingers into my tight, seldom-violated tunnel.
“Ooh.” Master wriggled two fingers, testing my resilience. “Not very roomy.”
I concentrated on muscles that had gone too long untested, and eventually I remembered how to use them to grab a finger and pull it in deeper.
“Ooh. Unexpected talents from the professor.”
“I have a few. But you're a tease, sir.”
“Now you know how it feels.” The goopy palm was cupping my balls, an implicit threat. He'd had a good teacher, so he knew exactly when and how hard to squeeze to delay a climax without softening a cock. As he fingered and squeezed, he kept gazing into my eyes.
My Nicky, who was sometimes bold and sometimes shy, was all boldness today.
“The dragon I figured out,” he said. “It's the hawks I don't get.”
“Really? We're going to talk about this now?”
He smiled. “Oh, after all the times you've done your tease and denial games on me, you can't honestly believe I'm going to rush into anything. I think it's a great time to just go nice and slow and have a discussion about a few things I've always wondered about.” A third finger had joined the two already in my ass. A thumb was pressing into my taint.
I bucked, and he tugged playfully on my balls.
“The dragon is your own desires. You learned to control them. To channel the fire.”
Close enough. Actually, pretty scary/accurate. “You know me well, Master.” It felt strange, calling him “Master,” but the switch was exciting too. He was showing me things he'd never show another man.
“It's my job to get inside your head.” He licked his lips. “Yeah, I think I like my job.”
“Fucking me is your job right now.”
“I'll tell you what my job is, thank you very much.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Yes, sir.”
“I won't be distracted. So the hawks. What's the story behind the hawks?”
“It was the first ink I ever got. I was fifteen.” I didn't say anything else, not for a long time. Our bodies were moving together, and the feeling had gotten beyond what a master at Nicky's level of experience could contain, and that was OK, it was more than OK, it was heaven, it was everything.
His fingers popped out, his hands went away, and then he was a good long weight on top of me, with his slick cock thrusting for the perfect spot.
And then he was fucking me, and I was his, and there was no place for words anymore. I can describe the physical sensations, but I don't know if I could ever in a million years describe the deeper emotions.
My cock was being smashed between our bodies. His cock was connecting at first tentatively and then insistently with my gland. He could not have planned the timing. It just happened that we came together, both of us overwhelmed with this moment we shared that would never be forgotten as long as we lived.
We had stepped out of time, and afterward I suppose we must have drowsed, and then somehow it was much later in the afternoon to judge from the yellow slant of the sun coming through the trees.
“The hawks.” He breathed the words into my ears, and his body was a warm sticky goodness that covered me, and I didn't want him to ever climb off. “You were fifteen.”
Ah, yes. The hawks. I had never told anyone this story, wasn't sure it was a story that could be told, but for my master I would try.
“I already knew who I was, but I felt like there was nobody like me in the world. That, maybe, there'd never be anybody like me.” I looked in his eyes to see him acknowledge he'd once had the same feeling. Maybe everybody like us has that feeling. “It was spring break. Late March, early April. Don't remember exactly. Spring break anyway. The other kids at my high school seemed so silly to me. I couldn't talk to anyone.”
Nicky was two years old when I was fifteen. It was a different century. Funny to think about it now. And yet I would never forget, and not just because of the ink on my arm.
“My parents thought I was on the school trip with the others.”
“And where were you really?” His long body went tense on top of me, afraid of what I was going to say. Fifteen-year-olds who take off on their own so often end up with a sad tale to tell.
I kissed him on the nose and then the side of the mouth, that sweet corner I love to kiss. “This is a happ
y story. I went camping.” He knew by now I'd grown up in South Texas. “There was a place I knew near the Rio Grande. 1998. It wasn't legal to cross there, but people sometimes did on flatboats, and it wasn't all that big a deal as long as you minded your own business. It wasn't unsafe, not like the way it got later. In those days, you could go there without a gun. People might see you, but they'd leave you alone. It's a nice long river, and there's lots of places to cross, and lots of places to camp, and I had my spot, and people left me alone there, and so that's where I went.”
“And were you alone?” He was still tense, still worried. As if he could reach back in time and pull my fifteen-year-old self out of the way of some onrushing train.
“No.” I kissed him again. “I thought I was, but no. In the morning, around maybe seven, seven-thirty or so, there was a sound I don't even know how to describe. Wings lifting off. All those wings. All those birds. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. They'd been sleeping in the trees along the river in the valley below me, and I'd never even known. Not seen a single one until that moment they started lifting off all around me, some of them close enough to touch.”
Master—Nicky, now—was no longer tense, not in the same way, but he couldn't stop looking into my eyes. His expression of awe told me he had some glimpse of what I'd felt that morning. Then he touched my arm with its swirl of birds flying up and up and up.
“I was in a tornado of migratory hawks lifting up for the day's flight into Mexico,” I said. “Hundreds of birds, once unseen, but suddenly everywhere around me as they spiraled up into the sky. And then I knew.”
“What did you know?” The way he asked, I'm not even sure it was a question. I think in his heart he knew the words before I spoke them. We were that close. We knew each other's heart.
But I spoke them anyway, in between the kisses.
“I knew there was a world unseen. A community unseen. I knew I would find that community, the same way all those hawks from all over Canada and America found that long strip of leafy trees in the valley along the Rio Grande. They found each other without any road map or any written instructions or any leader to guide their way, and I too... I knew then I would find my people too.”
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