by Romilly King
Paid to take Control
A Gay BDSM Romance
Romilly King
Drovers Road Books
Copyright © 2020 Romilly King
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Drovers Road Books
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
This book is intended for adults only and includes scenes around spanking, BDSM and kink. The sexual incidents in this book are fictional fantasies and are not intended to be in any way instructional!
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Coming Soon
About The Author
Books By This Author
Prologue
Of all the agencies in the USA Delphic is the best. We have the most repeat Emptores, the most loyal Venditores and our contract success rate is 93%.
Nobody sells sex better than us. We’re legal, we’re ethical, and we pride ourselves on upholding not just the letter of the law but the spirit of it. We’re here to make sure that the people who choose to sell sex, for whatever reason, don’t get exploited.
We’ve been doing this for nearly twenty years now, ever since the last great depression brought economies around the world to their knees and in the aftermath, the rich who had stayed rich were taking what they wanted for a tin of beans from those who had nothing.
Not happening, we the people said, so we regulated food and sex, and in the whirlwind of legislation around that the Agencies were born to oversee and hold safe the contracts between those who sell sex and those who buy it.
Here at Delphic, we have a secret weapon - an algorithm that allows us to map the unconscious kinks and desires of the Venditores on our books and the Emptores who want to buy their services. It means we hit the gold standard of any business; we give the customer more than they knew they wanted.
We keep it very quiet because industrial espionage is a thing and this is our edge.
The algorithm was developed a decade ago by a couple of guys out of MIT – it’s amazing what can happen when you throw a genius neural biologist submissive and a dominant computer expert, who aren’t remotely kink compatible, together at a time of their lives when their hormones are going bananas. They can generate amazing ideas in the pursuit of perfect pleasure!
It’s a shame though, that genius submissive, he hasn’t benefitted from the software he developed. We just couldn’t track down the right match for him. And that sucked because he was one of the few that really suffered, caught in the mental health whirlpool, of his unfulfilled sexuality.
His needs were complex, he was submissive, bratty, masochistic, incredibly clever, driven in his work, desperate in his needs, and when it periodically all got too much for him it was shady BDSM clubs, glory holes, gangbangs and every mutation of unsafe sex until he broke.
Eventually, his business partner decided enough was enough. Deliriously happy in his own relationship Ash wanted the same for Brio and if he couldn’t find a match then he would make a match.
This is that story, just another one of the many I have.
Chapter One
Brio the unicorn and the gloryhole
There were days when he couldn’t cope. When everything felt swollen soft and rotten like his skin was splitting open and his insides were spilling out. Days when he was so on edge that the sound of someone chewing with their mouth open sounded like an army of vaginas marching through mud and he just wanted to kill them. Today had been one of those days, and it hadn’t ended well.
Brio leaned back against the institutional green wall and adjusted his body language to display calm and collected. It would have worked better if half the guys in here hadn’t seen him on his knees sucking off a line of cocks.
The knees of his jeans were damp with god knows what and the skin beneath them was raw from kneeling. They hurt, with a dull ache, abrasions compounding pressure pain. Brio knew all about pain, he didn’t like this pain, in these circumstances.
But he wanted more pain, he needed more pain.
His jaw ached, his head was sore from having his hair pulled and his asshole throbbed because he had let an impatient guy fuck him when he didn’t want to wait in line for his mouth.
Delicately Brio took a fold on the inside of his swollen lower lip and nipped it with his teeth, the sharp sting of it helped to ground him as he started to drift down into images of hot flesh and cruel words.
Ash would be here soon, Ash and Richard, they were coming for him, he just had to hold on a little longer.
The holding cell wasn’t rammed but there were still ten other guys in there with Brio. It was a Thursday night, the night the guys who had regular fun things to do on a Friday and Saturday night, slid out quietly to do the bad things they never joked to their friends about.
Thursday night was lowlife sex night, which was why the cops had raided the glory hole at the back of the sex shop and why Brio was now in a holding cell. What he had been doing wasn’t illegal – nobody paid him to get on his knees to suck off strangers – but the cops didn’t know that and resisting arrest was illegal and Brio had resisted arrest, with his teeth.
A large guy in leather jeans and a stained t-shirt sidled up to Brio, “Gonna be a long night pretty boy, want to bump me to the head of the line whilst we’re waiting?” When he raised his arm to lean flirtatiously against the wall the waft of stale body odor made Brio jerk his head back. But inside his head, the submissive mewled and begged and scratched at the frayed mental ropes Brio held him by. He wanted more, he needed more. He wanted to be held down and fucked, passed around until he was nothing but a live wire connection of nerves between one man’s desire and the next. He wanted to be taken until he floated free and could never find his way back.
“Fuck off,” Brio didn’t waste an explanation on the guy; he didn’t have it in him. Right now he was holding on to reality by the skin of his teeth.
“You sure? You looked like you were really enjoying what you were getting before,” the guy leaned closer and whispered in Brio’s ear, “I got a real thick cock, it would look really good stretching those pretty lips of yours and I don’t mind giving a show to these guys,”
The guy’s eyes were dark with lust and Brio knew everyone in the holding cell was watching them and that sent his nerves jangling with desire. The desire to be good, to give them what they wanted, to reach for the promise of that floating, peaceful, brain calming quiet of submission.
He could feel his knees trembling, yearning to bend.
“Yeah, you’d go to your knees for me wouldn’t you, pretty boy,” the guy’s voice was heavy with the promise of debasement and Brio couldn’t hold on, he was going to go down.
There was a loud metal clang as the door to the holding cells opened, Brio dragged his eyes away from t
he man next to him.
Through the bars, he saw Ash and the lock of his gaze was like a lifeline thrown into the dirty flash flood inside Brio’s head.
The guy stepped away as the police officer opened the holding cell door, “You,” he nodded his head at Brio, “You’re bailed, time to get the fuck out of here,”
Ash was wearing faded jeans and his ancient MIT hoody with his hands shoved into the center pocket. His hair was mussed and rumpled as if he just rolled out of bed, which given the time of night he obviously had. His skin was darkly tanned from his honeymoon but he squinted with tiredness, jumping time zones was a bitch. Behind him, Brio could see Richard. Richard, naturally, was more put together than Ash, a neat button-up under a casual jacket and navy blue pants making him more look more like a duty lawyer than the academic he was.
Brio pushed himself off the wall and moved towards Ash; he knew his steps faltered because each one he took caused the humiliation to build. By the time he was in front of his partner his eyes had started to water – here comes the drop.
Ash quirked a smile at him but it trembled at the corners, “What’s the story, Morning Glory?” he whispered.
Tears were overflowing from Brio’s eyes, he could feel them track down his cheeks, “Usual tale, nightingale,” and he shrugged with all the sorrow inside him.
“I know, but this time we’re going to get it sorted, I swear,”
Richard moved forward and his long arm wrapped around Brio’s shoulder, “Come on,” he said softly, “Come with me, Ash is going to sort the paperwork,”
Brio let himself be lead out of the door, behind him he could hear leather pants guy complaining about his blow job being aborted for the second time.
“I’ll catch you next time, pretty boy,” he yelled, “Going to be real sweet for the waiting,”
“Over my dead body,” Brio heard Richard mutter, and he hung his head in shame, letting the feeling take up residence again inside him.
◆◆◆
Brio stood with Richard whilst Ash filled in release paperwork, paid over bail money, and charmed the ass off the custody officers. If he was lucky he could get away with a slap on the wrist for this, and Ash would make sure he was lucky.
More sorrow and guilt swelled in Brio, it was always him causing shit for Ash. Loyal, clever, loving Ash – he didn’t need the crap Brio brought, particularly now, just when everything was going right for him. Hell, he couldn’t have been home from his honeymoon for more than a couple of hours when Brio had used his one phone call to dump his problems on Ash again.
Brio slumped and Richard’s strong arm around his shoulders held him up. Brio liked Richard, he had a sly, dry humor that Brio adored, but he didn’t really get him and Ash.
Ash was a Dominant through and through, from his walk to his expression, and Richard was, well Richard was stoic and professional and yeah he looked hot but he looked normal – Brio could never hide what he was, he didn’t have it in him, his vibe has always been that little bit off – but Richard, never in a million years would he have put him and Ash together. Clearly, their algorithm was better than he thought because it spat Richard out and Ash had been head over heels for him since the moment they met.
“I can’t stop,” Ash had told him once, “I look at him and I know he will do anything for me, just me, nobody else, and I have to have him and keep making him look like that,”
Brio couldn’t imagine Richard writhing in ecstasy or begging, but Ash, drunk off his tits one night in LA, confessed that Richard liked to be cock caged and he liked to be denied and when Ash tied him he sank into subspace so fast it was like a comet dropping.
Brio had shivered with jealousy at that, not because he wanted Ash in that way, but because he wanted what he and Richard had - that duality, that dynamic that matched. He had had to go blow a random bear in the bathroom after Ash had said that, just to take the edge off, and when he came back Ash had been pissed with him.
Ash was often pissed with him. Right now, despite his calm exterior and easy charm, making the police officers laugh, Brio knew Ash was angry, angry and scared, and that was never a good combination in a dominant. Brio assumed he was really in for it this time.
Not that he didn’t deserve it. This time he had gone too far. But the itch under his skin, the need, the flip flop of his desires, it grew stronger every month and he didn’t know where to go from here.
◆◆◆
College had been his most stable time and even then there had been “episodes”. Episodes were what Brio chose to call his periodic descents into sexual degradation. Without Ash Brio knew he wouldn’t have made anything of himself – being brilliant wasn’t all it was cracked up to be in his opinion because if you paired genius with a personality as unfortunate as his there were too many pitfalls to navigate between potential and success.
Ash was his rock. Ash was his lifeline. Ash was his friend and he loved him with his whole heart. If only he and Ash had been sexually compatible Brio was pretty sure he would have a Nobel Prize by now!
Thrown together that first day at MIT snarky and opinionated Brio had been paired with driven and surprisingly shy Ash and each had found their best friend. Brio made Ash more outgoing and dragged him away from his deep dives into math and probability. Ash made Brio feel normal and less like an alien studying the bizarre ways of humanity.
The day Ash found out about Brio’s secret was the foundation stone their long relationship was built on. Stressed to his limit by the relentless pressure of a double master’s program Brio had taken himself to a shady BDSM club and gotten himself beaten bloody with a single tail and double teamed by a pair of lousy doms who high fived each other over his body.
He had dragged himself back to his dorm in full sub drop and when he fell through the door, face streaked with tears and shirt stuck to his back with blood Ash had done exactly the opposite of what Brio had expected.
Ash had held him, cleaned him up, and cuddled him, told him he was good and stayed wrapped around throughout the night. The next morning when Brio woke up Ash had been lying beside him, reading a textbook, Ash had smiled down at him with genuine affection, “What’s the story, Morning Glory?” he had asked.
“Usual tale, nightingale,” Brio had replied and had told Ash about his history of sexual extremes.
Ash had put safety measures in place, a systems man to the tips of his fingers Ash believed Brio’s problems could be managed with the right protocols. And to a degree, they could, and for years they sort of worked, but the older he got the worse his “episodes” got and now Brio had to admit to himself that the risks he took were getting more extreme and if he didn’t end up as a depraved millionaire headline on the gossip sites he would end up badly injured or dead.
◆◆◆
Brio shivered in the pre-dawn chill as they left the police station. Richard slipped off his jacket and carefully wrapped Brio in it. He managed a half-grin for his partner’s husband.
“I need you to take this Bri,” Ash held out a small pill and Brio reached obediently for it.
“Is it okay to give him anything?” Richard asked, “What if he has taken something?”
“He never takes drugs,”
Brio put the pill in his mouth and let it dissolve on his tongue with the familiar quick to paste, bitter taste of diazepam.
“Do we need to take him to a doctor? I could call Cash…”
“No, we’ll just take him home, clean him up, get him settled, he’s going to be staying with us for a few weeks,”
Brio blinked at Ash, “No,” he managed to get the word out.
“Yes,” Ash wasn’t angry but there was an adamant quality about him, the dominant that had matured over the years and finally flowered with Richard, front and center. Brio felt it vibrate inside him, all delicious clarity and surety.
He dropped his eyes, “Okay,” he hung his head, “I’m sorry,”
“You’re not sorry, Brio,” Ash said, his voice unhappy, “You’re sorry
for the hassle but you’re not sorry for what you did, and that’s okay, but we’re gonna find a safer way for you to get what you need,” He reached out and cupped Brio’s face, “I love you. You’re my partner, we created something together that makes people happier, and that’s awesome. Now it’s your time, brother, this ends here. You deserve so much more than this,”
Brio swallowed the sob that tried to escape from his throat and tried to dredge up a “Fucking, yeah!” grin for Ash but it was a poor attempt.
It was good enough to be rewarded with Ash’s sweet, half quirked, smile. “Get in the car, Brio,” Ash said, “Try and sleep, it’ll take about an hour to get home.”
Brio clambered into the back seat and lay down, he curled his long body into itself and waited for the drugs to pull a blanket over his twitching, itching brain.
He was aware when the car started and Ash maneuvered out of the parking garage, he let the sound of the wheels lull him and he closed his eyes.
“You never did explain to me why you call him a unicorn,” Richard’s voice was quiet but Brio could hear it clearly over the road noise, “You call him a unicorn and say things like he’s ‘out there in terms of his needs’” Brio imagined the air quotes that Richard had applied to the comment, “But you’ve never given specifics and now we’ve picked him up from a holding cell after he got arrested for biting a police officer when they raided a glory hole where he was clearly the main attraction,”
Brio couldn’t hear any censor in Richard’s voice, just concern. He would have preferred censor, judgment he understood, judgment he could live with, concern implied that his choices were poor because there were alternatives he could have taken.
Ash gave a low laugh, “I call him a unicorn because he’s everybody’s fantasy. He’s super bright, he’s pretty and he’s kinky as fuck. He’s what every Dom dreams of having. But the thing is, with unicorns, if you think about them logically, they are half a ton of stomp you to pieces animal with a huge horn in the middle of their forehead. Fantasy wise they are awesome, the reality can be a whole lot scarier.