by Romilly King
“I’ll just set up here then,” the new arrival flashed Painter a shy smile and glanced at him over his glasses with pretty green eyes.
“This is Painter,” Ash told him, “Painter, this is Cashel”
“And who the fuck is Cashel, Superman’s cousin?”
The other man rolled his eyes, “Not the first time I’ve heard that,” he smiled, “I’m Dr. Cashel Gregory, I’m head of Delphic’s Clinical Psychology Department. I liaise between the Agency and Ash’s organization as well as working with Venditores who need me. In this instance, I am here in my professional capacity to assist with overseeing the mental health needs of a complex contract.”
Painter was surprised that this unassuming young man held such an important position, but then he supposed some people didn’t take the road he had chosen and did better for themselves as a result. He shrugged off the usual mental stings his profession chose to jab him with, it could be worse.
“Sorry Doc,” he said, “It’s been a weird day,”
Dr. Cashel nodded, “I’m sure it has, and maybe Ash had been less than diplomatic because this is so important to him,”
It was Ash’s turn to roll his eyes, “Guy’s not listening to anybody,” he said,
“It’s not compulsory,” the doctor said gently,
“It’s getting that way,” Ash replied, profound sorrow apparent in his voice.
That tone of voice had more impact on Painter than anything he had heard so far. He took a seat at the conference table, “Look I’m sorry, but this has been a lot to take in,” he said, “Do you want to start at the beginning and tell me the story?”
“Morning glory,” he heard Ash whisper to himself, before he cleared his throat, embarrassed.
“Right,” Dr. Gregory sat down, “Let me summarise the situation as it appears to me – I have spoken to Ms. Sara, so I am up to speed,” he pointed out and Ash nodded.
He paused for a moment and seemed to gather his thoughts, then flipped open the folder on the table and pushed it towards Painter who took it automatically, “Normally, here are Delphic we try to be as anonymous as possible during contract negotiations but in certain instances, we have to get specific because arrangements are complex, or peculiar, or particularly sensitive, this is one of those situations.
“The contract Ms. Sara wanted you to consider was to take on the role of professional Dominant to a sexually submissive man called Brio,” he held up his hand to forestall Painter’s immediate refusal, “I know, you don’t want the contract but please listen a little longer,”
“Brio is a complex man, he is highly intelligent, extremely motivated in his work and has submissive needs so complex that if they are not met it results in behavior that not only puts him at severe risk to his mental health but also to his physical health,”
Painter glanced over at Ash, wondering what the connection was – brother, maybe?
“He’s my business partner,” Ash said, guessing from Painter’s expression “He’s co-founder of triple M,”
Well, that was surprising.
“Brio is what is known as a high level submissive, he has a significant number of kinks and his submissive needs should be met regularly to keep him stable and settled. Due to the variety of his kinks and the speed with which they overwhelm him we have, to date, been unable to find a dominant to match him,”
“Yeah, I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Doctor, who the fuck needs a specific kind of sex to keep them stable?”
“Pretty much everyone,” said Ash deadpan.
Painter laughed but the laughter died when he saw the serious expressions on Ash and Dr. Gregory’s faces, “You aren’t kidding?”
“No, we’re not,” Dr. Gregory said, “Please look in the file,”
“People keep throwing bits of paper at me today and expecting me to accept as gospel what is written on them,” Painter groused but he opened the folder and scanned the document.
On the left was a headshot of a laughing dark-haired man with a wide smile and soulful brown eyes, his hair was shaggy and he had a dimple in his left cheek. His jaw was sharp and with his head tilted up as it was in the photo Painter could see the long line of his throat. For some reason, the look on the guy's face made him quirk a smile. Pretty, he thought to himself, really pretty.
On the right-hand page was a routine age, education, location rundown– Jesus, a double doctorate – and then halfway down the page there was a bold type headline Kink Summary and below that was written:-
Highly Submissive – 95th percentile
Masochistic tendencies at 85th percentile
Kinks identified for shibari, impact play, restraint, chastity, edging, nonsexual age play, puppy play, control, and domination
Venditor requirements:- Brio requires a highly empathic Dominant with not only a wide-ranging skillset but the ability to deduce what he needs on any given day as his submissive presentation cycles through his kinks. The recommendation is for a long term stable dominant (one-year minimum) with daily contact and regular episodes of multi-day play. Brio will only respond positively to a dominant with compatible kinks, his own empathy allows him to sense those who dom for pay, and this compounds his low self-esteem. Also, as a pronounced masochist, Brio requires a Dom that can revel in his pain but then provide genuine aftercare. Without thorough aftercare, he will drop badly and his issues will spiral quickly.
Brio can be highly manipulative and challenging as a submissive but equally he can, with the right partner, on the right day, drop easily into subspace, and incidents like this result in a more sustained up phase to his mood and mental health. It is my opinion that with a truly compatible dominant in a long term contract Brio could reach equilibrium with his submissive nature and the wider benefits on his life and future would be profound.
Painter rubbed a finger between his eyebrows; he hadn’t hit the bottom of the rabbit hole yet. “So let me get this straight,” he sighed, “You guys think that I am a Dominant with kinks that match your man, and if I agree to fuck him as he wants, he’ll stop behaving like a dick,”
“He doesn’t just behave like a dick, he could fucking die,” Ash was on his feet, and Dr. Gregory had a hand on his forearm, was broadcasting calming vibes and encouraging Ash to sit back down, murmuring to him.
“Look, guys,” Painter tried to be sensible, “I get that you are scientists and you have this crazy theory, but honestly I’ve been around sex for the last ten years, I’m a professional Venditor, and I can tell you that this isn’t the way it works,”
“That’s true for most people,” said Dr. Gregory, “just like the Kinsey scale for sexuality the kink scale doesn’t matter much to most people, they are what they are, they accept their nature and their needs are met easily – that is the huge mass of people in the middle - but some people, on the far ends of the scale, struggle.
“You can compare it to those who historically struggled with their homosexuality and gender – and Brio is one of those people on the far edge. Funnily enough, so are you, but you have found a way to subvert the demands of your inner dominant and so you are coping better than he is,”
Painter shook his head, “This is bullshit man, it doesn’t work like that,”
“We’re getting nowhere with this,” Ash says, “Time to show and tell,”
Dr. Gregory sighed, “I’ll set the laptop up,”
“Don’t bother,” said Ash, he pulled his phone from his pocket, “He gets the adult version, I’m calling Ricky,”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate, Ash,”
“Tough,” Ash fiddled with his phone,
Dr. Gregory sighed and turned to Painter, “I would just ask you to try and keep an open mind,” he said, “We’ll just go through the graphs for a moment,”
Painter was lost as soon as Dr. Gregory pulled up two neural mapping graphics on his computer and attempted to show him how they compared. One was his and the other belonged to this Brio guy. He could see synchronicity between them but it m
eant nothing to him, they were just brain shapes full of flickering light nodes.
A few minutes later the door to the conference room opened again and a tall, well-built man entered. He was extremely attractive, lithe, and graceful with an intelligent, somber gaze. His expression was composed until he spotted Ash and then a glorious smile broke across his face. Ash rose and strode towards him and Painter realized that at that moment there was nobody else in the room to Ash, just this man. He felt a shock of loneliness shiver through him, he pressed it down ruthlessly.
“Baby,” Ash reached out and cupped the other man’s face with almost unbearable sweetness and Painter swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.
“They have that effect on people,” Dr. Gregory whispered and his gaze on Painter was knowing.
Taking the man’s hand Ash pulled him forward, “This is Painter, the prospect,” he said, “he’s not getting with the program, please be kind enough to tell him who you are and what you do.”
The man smiled at him, he radiated calm confidence, “Hi Painter, I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to meet you” he said, “Richard, my name is Richard Gannon, I am Ash’s husband,” he smiled at the man beside him, “I am currently enrolled in D.U. Graduate School where I am due” he glanced at his watch, “in 28 hrs. time to defend my DPhil on the rise of kink centric literature during the early years of the 21st century, after which I will be Dr. Gannon.”
Ash was smiling proudly at Richard, “Oh, and Ricky,” Ash said, “What’s your safeword?”
Richard turned to Ash and quirked his head, then he smiled, “Vista,” he said confidently.
“Kneel,” said Ash and Richard went gracefully to his knees.
Painter’s cock got hard in microseconds, the traitorous fucker.
◆◆◆
Watching Ash spank his husband was a revelation on so many different levels that Painter felt his world view unraveling.
Firstly there was the intense sexual arousal that had him throbbing in his jeans as he watched Ash bend Richard over the conference room table, bare his ass and then proceed to deliver ten sharp cracks across it. The sound of the hand on flesh, Richard’s bitten back whimpers, the humiliated flush on his face, and the fierce possessive look on Ash’s, it spoke to something in him, sang to him with a siren’s song.
In the end, when Ash pulled Richard upright against him and murmured praises into his neck, Painter could see Richard’s substantial erection sticking straight out in front of him. It looked delicious, but in the center of his soul Painter thought it would be even more delicious if Richard was soft.
He closed his eyes and tried to push the dark desire under, the desire to take what was offered and drown in it, to ask for more and more until the man he controlled gave up his very being.
When he opened his eyes again Ash was looking at him over Richard’s shoulder. One hand was around Richard’s throat, holding him back to him and the other toyed lazily with Richard’s erection, “Oh, there you are,” said Ash with a certain smugness, “Nice to finally meet you,”
Painter realized he was breathing heavily and his hands were fisted on his thighs, he was leaning forward, his posture aggressive and his cock was so hard he could have hammered nails with it.
Ash licked a stripe up Richard’s neck and Richard trembled in his grasp, his cock bobbing, “Bet you would like one of these,” Ash taunted.
“That’s enough Ash,” Dr. Gregory’s voice was harsh, “Take Richard and look after him,”
“Always,” said Ash easily but he turned Richard towards him, bent and pulled up his pants and planted a soft kiss on Richard’s mouth, “Love you, Ricky, you are amazing,” he murmured. He led Richard out of the room with an arm wrapped around his waist. Painter noted the way Richard leaned into Ash and he itched to have that trust shown in him.
Dr. Gregory took his glasses off and polished them, he let out a slow breath and looked at Painter sideways, “How do you feel?” he asked,
“Do they teach you the exact right way to say that your first week in Psychologist school?” Painter snarked.
“I practiced in front of the mirror for months,” replied Dr. Gregory, “Took me ages to get the caring tone right,”
Painter hung his head and blew out a huff of laughter, “That was crazy,” he said,
“Yeah, it was, but it worked didn’t it,” Dr. Gregory’s look is assessing, “It turned you on, a lot,”
“Yep,” Painter scrubbed his hands over his face, “Like you wouldn’t believe,”
“Have you ever been around anything like that before?”
“Nope, not in real life,”
“In porn?”
“Yeah, and in my head,” Painter sighed, “Sometimes I get these fantasies when I’ve taken a break from contracts or they are boring or…” He trailed off.
“Go on,” Dr. Gregory encouraged.
“It’s there, sure, I always knew it was, but I don’t want it, I don’t want to be that person, I want to be nice,”
“You don’t think you can be dominant and nice?”
“You think you can!”
“Actually, yes,” Dr. Gregory turned to him and his gaze was very serious, “I think that some of the nicest people I know are dominants. They are caring and loyal and determined. Ash is actually one of the nicest people I know. When he isn’t worried sick or in that part of his persona he is shy and sweet and ridiculously dorky,”
Painter rolled his eyes, he couldn’t see that.
“I think the most sensible way forward is for you to take a few classes,” Dr. Gregory said, “Don’t dismiss the contract out of hand, learn, consider, reflect, and then have a few meetings with Brio, see if you resonate together. We have time.
“Ash is worried about Brio because he is protective of him but Brio isn’t a basket case and after his latest drop he has got it out of his system for a while. We can take our time with this and you’ll be paid whilst you are in contract negotiations and training. We can go at your pace.”
Painter found himself nodding, “I’ll give it a go,” he said, “And I guess I should at least take some courses because it looks like it’s out of the box in my head now, and given the way I responded to that I’m going to struggle to get it back in,”
Dr. Gregory laughed, “Relax Painter,” he said, “It’s not like you’re never going to have vanilla sex again! Vanilla sex is great, even kinky people have it more often than anything else and it’s amazing. It’s not like we always need to have our foot in a bear trap and be punched in the face in order to come!”
“That was weirdly specific, Doc,” Painter raised his eyebrows at the psychologist.
Chapter Three
Brio and the reluctant dominant
“Is he late?” Brio asked, “I hate it when people are late; it makes me feel like I’m not worth turning up for,”
“He’s not late,” said Cashel mildly and continued making notes in the margins of the report he was reading. They were sat in the pleasant sunshine of the Agency gardens, close to the lake, far enough away from the main building that it felt like a park.
“What’s he like?”
“You’ll find out shortly,” Cashel looked at Brio over his glasses, “This is an initial meeting Brio, it’s not a done deal, he’s still not cleared for your kind of contract, he’s in training and you both need to okay all the clauses should you decide to proceed,”
“He doesn’t want the contract, does he?” Brio was edging towards hyper, he could feel it.
“He wants what you should want, a compatible arrangement,”
“Fuck Cash, I liked you way more when we were trading blow job disaster stories in that karaoke bar in Memphis,”
“We swore never to speak of that night,” said Cashel primly.
Brio grinned and settled, he turned his face towards the lake and let the breeze blow through his hair, cooling the slight sweat on his brow “He’s the closest I’ve ever seen to compatible with me,” Brio said, “Ash let me r
un the checks, his sexual pathology is beautiful,” he sighed, “His brain has a glow about it, like a nebula,” he added wistfully,
Cash tapped him on the arm and nodded his head towards the Agency building, “Your Venditor is about to arrive, exactly on time,” he said.
Brio turned, an exceptionally tall man in light jeans, a plain t-shirt and casual jacket in forest green was striding towards them. He had a loping gait, his long legs covering the ground quickly and the sun picked out highlights of gold and bronze in his dirty blonde hair.
“That is not a fucking Dom,” said Brio to Cashel, “He’s wearing Gucci for God’s sake!”
“Clothing judgment from a millionaire wearing a t-shirt that says ‘I must not stab people with pencils’!”
Brio grinned unrepentantly at Cash.
“Not disappointed, I take it,” said Cash mildly,
“Tall is good for a start,” said Brio trying to fain nonchalance.
Cash stood and held his hand out as the tall man approached. Brio could see his face was tanned, he had a light scruff on his cheeks, darker than his hair, and his smile was easy and open when he grasped Cash’s hand. Brio suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of shyness and wished he had worn something less hysterical.
“Painter, nice to see you again,” Cashel smiled, “This is Brio,”
Brio looked up into blue eyes - sky blue, sea blue, glass scoured by the waves under an endless summer day blue. There was green in there too, dark splinters and light splashes, like the prisms of jade in deep water, where the turtles played. Brio found himself rising to his feet without conscious volition.
“Hi,” Painter’s tone was friendly but Brio could sense something in it, a distance, a misdirection, it made him unhappy. He looked at the hand that Painter was holding out to him, large hands, clean nails, long fingers. He would feel those inside him, they would press into him, twist in him, scissor him open and hold him there. Brio shook his head, trying to force the images away.