FetteredLove

by Michelle Polaris

  In Kirk’s chains, in his clamps, balls stretched, stuffed full of his cock, deep and rubbing, driving Evan crazy. Serving the man. Loving it.

  Time passing. Loving Kirk.

  Home again.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The doorbell rang in real time. Reality cleared Evan’s head.

  He answered the door to the third surprise of the morning.

  Every twenty minutes after that another single-stemmed red rose was delivered. Each stalk was wrapped with a scroll containing words of seduction. Tantalizing. Promises of arousal and maddening touches. The scrawl of Kirk’s or Sarah’s name appeared at the bottom of each. And the final twelfth flower wrapped with a directive. Ten p.m. Tonight. Unfettered. Rose Room.

  Perfect destiny.

  Or the final scene of their drama, a romantic script gone bad with no happily ever after. Well, he’d have the one with Kirk. It would be enough.

  Still.

  He made a final vow to himself.

  To let his hope fly for one more night.

  * * * * *

  The club rocked at full tilt. The music wasn’t hard or loud but a sensuous thud that lingered inside each person’s bones. The taste of power, both taken and surrendered, flavored the air, leaving the impression of intense energy woven throughout the room. A spicy, musky bouquet. Arousal.

  Masters and Mistresses trailed leashes with obedient or recalcitrant subs, depending on the personal preferences of the duo. Skin shone bare, oil sheening muscle and limbs to please the Dominants’ eyes. Two bartenders worked behind the bar, frenetically delivering a constant stream of orders, although this early in the night most were non-alcoholic. Later, after scenes concluded, the crowd would wind down with a drink or two of the real deal. Or would if this club was like the others Evan visited in the Boston area. He still wondered why Unfettered hadn’t hit his radar before. Even if it was new, the scene in New England wasn’t too large.

  His nerves ratcheted tighter at entering the club solo. A taut, expectant desire hung inside his body. It had been years since he’d gone to a public venue without Kirk and his cock was half hard already, pressing against his jeans. His roses had left no instructions for dress, so he’d gone with something club neutral. Tight jeans and black tee. Unfettered’s dress code appeared to be flexible.

  To the far side of the common area a few public scenes were mid-progress. A curvy blonde hung in restraints, arms cuffed above her head. A Dom raised a cane and brought it whistling through the air down upon her already red bottom. Her high-pitched call of pain darkened the eyes of the Master delivering the punishment. He bent in, murmured in her ear, eliciting an exhausted nod. The man lovingly stroked her wet locks, trailed a hand down the mane to the small of her back where the raised welts from his attention began. She shuddered in the restraint.

  Farther down the wall a man sat enclosed in a stockade, his cock and balls squeezed in a vise and locked down. A Domme in stiletto heels strode around his secured body, trailing the end of a crop over his straining flesh as she circled. The man’s chest heaved like a winded racehorse, although Evan saw no evidence he’d been struck. His ass was plugged with a vibrating device. Standing at his head was another man, the locked slave’s mouth around his dick, sucking him at an awkward angle but fully focused on his job even while struggling for breath. The slave’s cock was huge, leaking at the tip and testimony to how long he’d been worked already. How ready he was to come if only allowed.

  A zing flew through Evan just watching. He closed his eyes against the sudden image of being in the stockade, Kirk and Sarah reaching out to touch and torment him, squeeze his cock or pinch and scratch a caught, clamped nipple. Tug his hair and ram his mouth full of cock or nipple at their whim. Shit, his shaft filled with molten steel.

  A jealous streak surged through him at these scenes. The lack of any toys adorning his body, even a cock and ball harness or simple plug, left him feeling more naked than any of the times Kirk required he walk around at a club without clothes. He liked the restriction of a ring around his sac, the slight pain of clamps or the arousing discomfort of a plug as a baseline for this part of his life. They provided a center. They reminded him of Kirk’s care and attention. Although tonight was about giving himself over to the two people he loved, apprehension started playing with his mind, turning their absence all day into a type of rejection. For the first time in a while he questioned how straight his head was on. There was no rejection, he reminded himself. Evan glanced around, searching for two particular faces and needing them. But he knew exactly where they waited for him.

  He started down a corridor leading to the private playrooms, giving his name to the staff monitoring this area of the club and earning a nod and wave down the hall. Obviously he was expected. Damn, he wanted this badly. He walked faster.

  He found his destination quickly. The Rose Room, the words carved into the wooden plaque with lovingly etched designs of roses twined around the curved alphabet. Underneath the name were a few extra words—Thorns and all. He laughed under his breath, noticing the nervous huff of the sound.

  He dragged in a breath and knocked on the door.

  Sarah opened it. Her gold-green eyes smiled as her hair draped softly around her shoulders. “Hello, Evan.”

  She reached out and wrapped her long, slim fingers around his wrist, gently drawing him into the room. Delicate and strong. For a moment he resisted, caught by her aching loveliness and afraid of it all at once. She’d dressed in a short silk robe, peaches and cream, which highlighted her complexion. The soft look surprised him. It contrasted her diamond-hard core. But the contrast caused his heart to thud louder, an ever faster beat. He glanced behind her to find Kirk dressed in a similar chocolate robe. Tantalizing glances of skin peeked out of the gaps in the material showing muscle, sinew and flat planes. Evan blew out the air in his lungs he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  Candles flickered on an ornately set table. Pillows were strewn across a room full of soft surfaces, delicate cloths thrown over tables. Nothing hard here. Nothing like a dungeon. His mind struggled to figure it out. Perfumed flowers, the namesakes of the room, sat in vases on most available tabletops. Their scent flared his nostrils, too sweet, a confection when what he wanted was the smell of leather and metal, a reminder of a harsh reality that lingered underneath the beauty of the world. It balanced him, this reminder. It was part of his story. But even the roses were of softer shades—whites, pinks, peaches, yellows. The overall effect was one of seduction and caused a strange pulsing in Evan’s temples, a twisting sourness in his gut. As Sarah let go of his hand, he backed up a step before he caught himself.

  “What, afraid of a little seduction, angel?” she purred, reading his mind.

  Kirk came up to stand behind her, reached beyond her waist to Evan’s. Kirk’s arm brushed her side and Evan’s gaze was drawn to the contact between them. He watched her long lashes flutter down as Kirk rested a proprietary hand on Evan’s hip while the inside of his elbow lay snug against her side. All three bodies close.

  “Off, sweetheart. Strip for us,” Kirk ordered.

  His cock hardened more as he dipped his head, tried to keep his gaze averted when all he really wanted was to soak up the sight of them.

  They’d stepped back to give him room to shuck his jeans and tee. Naked, well aware liquid already shone at the tip of his shaft, he gave in to the prickles covering his skin, the anticipation of their touch and torture.

  Sarah circled around the back of him, a silken tie wound at either end in the palms of her hands and pulled taut. “So, angel, here we are at your command. Although the audacity of it, of how you overstepped yourself by blackmailing your Master into doing this is something that will not go unpunished.”

  Her purred threat burrowed inside him and stirred. Everything out of her mouth stayed gentle, spoken at just above a whisper. “You owe him an apology at the least, don’t you think? On your knees, Evan.”

  He folded down as Kirk stepped
nearer. This he knew.

  “Wrists behind you, angel,” Sarah commanded in more of her almost whisper at his ear. The silk tie brushed his wrists as she bound them together, tying a knot. Not overly tight. Her feather-soft hair brushed his shoulders as she bent to secure his wrists. She smelled of vanilla and arousal and pleasure. He automatically pushed out against the fabric, testing. She crossed back into his view. “Yes, you can get out of the bind if you tried. But I know you won’t, angel.”

  Kirk’s deep voice pulled his attention forward. “Eyes to me, Evan.”

  He latched his gaze to Kirk’s. “I owe you an apology, Master.” The words burned his throat as he focused on the dark, sexy man.

  Kirk raised his brows. “Really? Because I think you don’t. Your heart knows what it wants. And honesty is all I’ve ever asked of you. I think your request for tonight strikes me as reasonable.”

  Sarah’s head whipped in his direction at the words, but she schooled her face.

  A dimple played on his lover’s cheek as a sly smile crept onto his lips. “Doesn’t mean I won’t take out my irritation on your skin, sweetheart, for backing me against a wall.”

  Kirk reached forward and ran a thumb over Evan’s nipple. It hardened to a point, aching. He expected a pinch. It never came. Instead, his Master reached for a black ribbon resting on a side table. He tied the ribbon around Evan’s throat, snug but not constricting. “Your collar for this evening. Nothing stiff and leather. Nothing to hurt you. We don’t want that.”

  “A lovely present tied up for us,” Sarah added.

  His gut tightened, hollowing with discomfort. “But¼” He shook his head to clear it.

  Sarah crossed into his line of vision. “Tonight we take care of you, baby. And you will take our worst loving tenderness. I’m in the mood for soft. And I know you don’t want to disappoint your Mistress.”

  Kirk was standing behind her, resting his large hand on her shoulder. Evan watched her eyes brighten, her breath blow out at the continued contact.

  “Let’s bring our boy to the table, Sarah. He looks hungry.”

  As she responded to his suggestion, she brushed her side against his, caught Kirk’s gaze and feathered a touch on his wrist with a nod. Evan’s pulse beat hard enough to feel at his temple as Kirk let out the lowest, quietest growl in response.

  “After you, Sarah.” He spread his hands in a gesture toward a table to the back of the room. “I’ll help our sub.”

  Sarah brushed the top of Evan’s head with a kiss. She strolled in the gestured direction.

  It was to be a dueling seduction between the two of them then and arousing as hell. It pushed his buttons perfectly. Satisfaction expanded in his chest, warm, full. This was what he hoped. The rest, their strange gentleness, the lack of the typical leather and dungeon scene he’d shared with both was a blurred confusion he fought down. Who cared about their plan if he got what he wanted—their healing. And maybe more.

  Kirk loomed over him, wrapping a hand around his biceps to urge him up. But he checked his strength, moved slowly as Evan stood. “I’ll need to prepare you for your seat at the table. Bend at the waist, spread your legs.”

  The command had Evan’s balls lifting higher as he bent to follow direction. The exposing position ratcheting up his arousal, his cock kicking against his belly. Wet, cool liquid and the pad of a finger touched his hole after the snick of a lubricant tube cap sounded.

  “Relax, Ev. You know the routine.” A thick finger pushed at his anus, went in slow. He pushed back, wanting more.

  A hand grabbed his ass. “Stop. I control the speed.”

  It hurt to keep still but he did.

  The fingers went in punishingly slow. God, Evan wanted to ram them deeper to feel a burn.

  Kirk chuckled low. “Always looking for a quick, hard fuck, sweetheart. Not tonight.”

  The stretching continued at snail speed, more fingers added but too damn gently. And then gone too soon. Evan didn’t know who to be in this scene or what they wanted.

  “Stand. Let’s walk over to the chair at the place setting.” Kirk led him there, hand at his elbow as if he were an escort at a fancy restaurant.

  Sarah had pulled out the chair, and Evan got a clear look at the large dildo suctioned to the seat. The toy had been lubricated as well.

  She took over Kirk’s hold on him. “Now, angel, slowly. I’m going to control your descent onto the cock. You let go. Let me bring you down. I love you, angel. It’s good. You’ll feel full, but I expect you know that sensation.”

  Evan shook, the energy he used to get him to the zone beginning to overtake him as Sarah guided him toward the seat. He needed more to get there. They were being too careful of him, too solicitous. His mind struggled, frantically throwing itself around, trying to figure out how to handle her sweetness. How to get the intensity higher, faster.

  He resisted, couldn’t help himself. But as he pulled against her grip, she let go of his arm. Leaving him¼empty. Leaving him standing on his own. He didn’t like this at all.

  “I won’t allow you to fight me tonight, Evan.”

  “Then get your cuffs and secure me to the damn seat.” The words fell out unplanned.

  “No.” Kirk got close. “You cooperate fully tonight with no struggle. You submit without it. You’re too used to using the fight to help you release and I’ve been willing to let you do it. No more. Tonight you do it our way.”

  Sarah’s silken voice added to Kirk’s. “Each time you defy us, we stop what we’re doing. Do it enough and we end the scene altogether and walk away. I know you want this. You want it badly enough to make demands you had no business making no matter how generous your Master is about refusing an apology.”

  Even as she challenged him, it was all sugar and sweetness.

  “No struggle. Got it?” she reiterated.

  He bit back the snarl he couldn’t believe started up his throat. This should be easy. He could do this. Evan nodded curtly, afraid to open his mouth.

  Kirk cupped the back of his neck, and gave it squeeze. “Good. Now let your Mistress lower you down onto the dildo.”

  She closed long fingers around his arm and he followed her direction. As he went down, she adjusted the toy to align with his body, the rich nerves around his anus stretching, burning. Yes. He wanted that. Craved it. His breathing sped faster.

  “Slow, sweetheart,” Kirk added, watching.

  When Evan looked, he saw his lover’s eyes focused closely on Sarah’s face, her wide eyes sparkling as a clear fire lit her from inside out. “Is your cunt as wet as I am hard watching him do this, Sarah?”

  She stopped her motions, placed a hand at Evan’s hips to make him halt his descent. “Wet and clenching. He’s beautiful.”

  “Yes,” Kirk answered.

  Evan tried to focus on their byplay, it was what he’d hoped for, knew it was crucial. But he was full and wanted more. Wanted to go down those last inches.

  “Mistress, please.”

  She tilted her head, examined him. “Down the last bit, but I will count to ten, and you will take the entire count to finish lowering yourself. You get there before ten and I stop this.”

  Shit!

  He managed but, god, he wanted to sit down the rest of the way quickly. He needed it, that intense shot of discomfort. He wanted to fly, get in the headspace. To rub the fake cock against the button of his prostate and feel. Or not feel in this case.

  Instead, each fraction of descent stripped him further, leaving him raw but in a new way. A process worse than stripping wood of layers of paint, exposing the old surface, battered, nicked, not so sturdy without the finish that held together the decaying grains.

  Sweat beaded his temple, a drop running down the side of his face. Sarah brushed the now wet strands of hair off his forehead. Soft touch. His throat closed up around the comfort of it. She ran her hands across his chest, trailing them down to his abs and around the base of his cock. “So hard for us. Now sit still, baby. I don’t wan
t you moving. You have some dinner to eat.”

  Food. A meal lay out in front of him on china. Not a huge amount, but how in god’s name would he eat a bite?

  Kirk picked up the silver fork, speared a strand of asparagus. There were a few medallions of cream-covered meat, the pork dish he liked to cook for Evan on their celebrations. Kirk began to feed Evan, bite after bite, while Sarah whispered in his ear, ran her tongue over the lobe.

  “So gorgeous, angel,” she murmured. “Such a good boy. I know you wish I had the clamps to make it hurt so good. We don’t want that. We want your cock hard and ready for us, waiting, but waiting for our caresses. It’s a different kind of suffering than you usually get.”

  She lowered her hand to his lap, started stroking his shaft, a gentle, torturous vise around him. He wanted to move. More than anything.

  Kirk forked in another bite, a soft parmesan whipped potato concoction. Salt, cream, bursts of delicate flavors from fresh garden herbs, subtle and flavorful at once. And adding to the overload. He almost choked on it. He was dizzy with the frustration, the delay to everything his body craved.

  After another bite, Kirk tasted the food and made appreciative humming sounds. “Try this.” He placed more on the fork, stretched his hand over to Sarah’s waiting mouth.

  “Delicious.” She finished the bite, chewing slowly, a show of the mouth’s erotic potential, and licked her full lips with her tongue. “You were always a good cook, Kirk.”

  “But of course.” He tipped his head.

  Her soft laugh rippled over his nerves. “Your Master is an arrogant prick, Evan. But you probably know and love that about him.” She winked at Kirk, her lips curved, but then refocused on Evan. “What do you say? Had enough dinner?”