by Romilly King
◆◆◆
Brio watched Painter as he stood out on the terrace, in the morning sun, with his coffee and his multihued hair and the snow on the mountains in the distance.
He knew the shoe was going to drop, it was just a question of when and so he took everything he could get because he could feel it coming, the end drawing near, and he needed to stockpile the memories, the sensations, the ecstasy, for whatever the future would bring.
Chapter Twelve
Painter and the long dark tea-time of the soul
After his evening spanking Brio would be relaxed and docile and that was when Painter liked to explore him, laid out on the bed or the playroom floor, supple, soft, and yielding.
Painter loved the color of Brio’s hole. Genitals are unique to each human, and Painter has had pale wraith women whose genitals blushed a dark rose and he has had olive-skinned men whose cockheads were wan and ghostlike.
Brio’s hole was a few shades darker than the rest of his skin and it was like a target for Painter to zero his tongue into. He loved the shadow dip of it and the dark tan rim of it and he knew, if he opened it up, inside it would be red and gleaming.
On nights like these, he wanted to open Brio up until he could see right inside him to the molten core of him and then take it. His mouth flooded with saliva, his cock twitched and he knew he wanted Brio in every way possible and he knew he could take him in every way possible because Brio would let him.
And more than that he knows that he loves all parts of Brio and what they do together. He loves the care he is allowed to give him, the pain he can inflict on him, and the control he has over him.
He came to this contract reluctantly, he accepted his dominant side reluctantly, he found delight in inflicting pain reluctantly, but nothing has been as reluctant as his admission to himself that he loved Brio.
He thinks maybe he could get over it, maybe learn to live with it in the hope that it faded in time but that seemed unlikely, given the dynamic.
His hands were cool on the hot cheeks of Brio’s freshly spanked ass. He spread them slowly and dabbed again at the star of his hole with his tongue. Brio sighed languorous and low and Painter never wanted to let him go.
◆◆◆
Winter was coming on and the snowstorms would soon sweep down on the city, nobody cared but Brio who was morose at summer’s end.
Painter found him in the kitchen one morning, his head on his folded arms, staring intently at a soap bubble that had floated free from the washing up and now rested on the granite worktop, it's surface tension oily and roiling.
Painter had pressed a kiss to Brio’s head, “You okay baby boy?”
Brio had puffed out a breath and the bubble popped, “I’ve got something stuck in my head and it’s annoying me,”
Painter ran a hand through Brio’s hair, petting him lightly, “What?”
Brio didn’t make eye contact, just stared into the middle distance, “I read a quote from this old designer guy, some big old queen, from decades ago. He said ‘I personally only like to bed high-class escorts. I don’t like sleeping with people I really love. I don’t want to sleep with them because sex cannot last, but affection can last forever.’”
There was nothing Painter could possibly say to that; on so many levels it would be the death of him.
Brio looked at Painter, his expression haunted, “On the good days I know it’s not true, of course, it isn’t. But on the worst days, the really bad days, I think it might be the best I’m going to get.”
Brio breaks Painter’s heart in so many ways.
That was the day he went to speak to Cashel.
◆◆◆
Painter looked down at Brio, a slight smile on his face, peace in his heart. Brio knelt between Painter’s spread legs, naked, his hands crossed neatly behind his back. His mouth was warm and wet around Painter’s soft cock, his cheek rested on Painter’s thigh and his big brown eyes, hazy with his submission, blinked slowly as he looked up at Painter.
“My beautiful boy,” Painter used a finger to wipe the drool from the edges of Brio’s swollen and flushed lips, “That’s lovely, just hold it there, no sucking, just hold it, keep it warm,”
Painter could feel him, the slow calm cycling of his brain, the serenity that radiated from him, the usual storm of his energy lulled into easy rolling waves.
They were both floating on the same sea.
Painter ran a hand through Brio’s hair, allowed himself to put all his love into the touch, said the words in his head, kept his mouth shut.
◆◆◆
The next day he told Brio he was leaving.
“I’m quitting Brio,” he said, “Turns out I am a sadist, but I’m not a total bastard,”
Brio looked at him steadily
“I can’t do this for money. I could fuck for money because it wasn’t me, but this is me, and I have to accept that and for me, part of that means not getting paid to touch you the way you need.” He shrugged, “It seems somewhere along the way I developed integrity along with a firm right hand.”
Brio obliged him by quirking a smile at that, “What are you going to do instead?”
Painter blew out a breath and dropped his gaze, “I spoke to the agency, I’m going into training at Delphic, turns out you put a lot of mileage on a guy real quick and that, along with Tay’s mentoring, means I’d make a passable instructor. That and my charming personality.
“Cash thinks my doubts about myself give me a healthy angle on the whole thing. I bring an extra level of safety to the process and that can only be a good thing, people like me shouldn’t be allowed out without safeguards.”
Brio briefly rested his hand on Painter’s arm, “You’re not so bad you know”
“No? It seems I have more honor than I thought which is a rare tick in the plus column of a very shitty personality analysis.”
Brio’s voice was steady but his eyes were shadowed with pain and Painter could feel him starting to build the walls up, brick by brick. Soon he wouldn’t be able to feel him at all, “Will you be dominating the subs at Delphic?”
“Yeah, I have to, it’s part of the role, but I’ve said there will be no sexual component when I’m training, that’s a hard limit for me,”
Brio seemed relieved at that, Painter guessed he had a point, the idea of him just bouncing out the door and taking on a whole line of subs, that would have been too close to Brio’s own issues.
“What do you think I should do?” asked Brio.
“Be happy, because you’re amazing” he just couldn’t think of anything else to say, he couldn’t bring himself to suggest Brio find someone else.
“Yeah, not so helpful, never could get on board with that,”
“I’m sorry Brio,” he said, “I just can’t do this with you for money, it’s wrong, it’s wrong for me,” he took a deep breath and looked deep into Brio’s eyes, “I never had control of anything before this. I never wanted control of anything before this. Control required effort. I just slid through life, taking the line of least resistance, going with the flow.
“Turns out once I got a little control I wanted all the control. You gave me control of you and that gave me control over me, and that’s a good thing and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. But that’s why I quit.”
“I understand,”
Painter looked at him, “Thank you for being so cool about this, I thought you’d go nuts,”
“You do know my other doctorate is in psychology don’t you?”
“I forgot,” Painter said, “I’m only human, but yeah, figures. So, you’re going to be okay” he made it a statement and put as much of his newly minted dominance into it as he could, “You’ve got friends, you’ve got people who love you, you have people watching over you, you’ll just keep on being amazing.”
“I’ll be sad,” Brio said.
Won’t we all, thought Painter.
Chapter Thirteen
Brio and the promises you keep
And Brio was sad. But sad was okay, sad served a purpose, sad was manageable. Sad wasn’t dropping, and sad didn’t lead to episodes of sexual degradation.
He endured it through the winter, because privation and suffering, that’s character building, although Brio suspected that he already had rather more character than was strictly required.
He worked with Ash, the two of them noodling away at the algorithm; they couldn’t get the switch component to mesh within the submissive, dominant lattices. He needed more data, and then he would fix it. Ash, being snotty, said switches didn’t matter, they were by their very definition more balanced and they were boring.
Brio didn’t agree, switches were fascinating and he had the feeling that they were the real key to it all, once he got switches sorted he could unlock the whole puzzle and it would fall open before him like a great big glorious maze, all his to explore.
He hung out with Richard. They went for lunch and Brio ordered a pineapple smoothy every time because ya never know, even though he did know, but hope, eternal, springing, sort of thing.
Every week he met with Cashel in his professional capacity and far from Delphic’s offices. Brio was a psychologist, he understood the value of therapy, he expected he would be in therapy of one form or another for the rest of his life. Cashel listened to all the things Brio couldn’t tell anyone else and Brio made jokes about how paying people to listen to him was his new normal. Cash never laughed at those jokes.
He researched and he learned and he laughed – sometimes – and he proved stuff because scientists have to prove stuff.
If you don’t prove it, it isn’t real.
◆◆◆
Brio had promised himself he would tell Painter he loved him when he left him, and if Brio knows one thing, it’s that breaking promises to yourself, that’s just stupid, and he has never, ever, been stupid.
Late maybe, nervous definitely, but not stupid.
Painter had his own training studio now at Delphic, he specialized in ropework, turned out when he had nothing else to master he mastered rope.
Brio let himself into the studio early one March morning, unannounced, unexpected, determined.
Painter’s studio was huge; there was rigging, lights, stainless steel track across the ceiling, wooden bars along one end wall, and coils of rope in all shades and consistencies hung in neat rows in a rope locker that was at least twenty foot long. Of the man himself, there was no sign.
The floor was padded, the spring light slanting into the room was defused by gauzy curtains and there was music playing. Soft music, slow music, hypnotic sweet music. A dungeon this was not.
At the far end of the room, a construction of intricately woven ropework was suspended from a square rig.
Brio glided towards it, his feet silent on the floor.
He tilted his head to one side, considering, examining. Was that a bubble? Constructed as elegantly as a weaver bird’s nest it hung from a single plaited line but was stabilized by guy ropes to the corners, that anchored it in place, anchored it in space.
How very beautiful. How very Painter.
“Hey,”
Brio turned at Painter’s quiet vocalization. He hadn’t heard him enter the room.
“Hey,” Brio replied, quiet, suddenly shy. He tucked his hands into his pockets, he felt overdressed in his business suit compared to Painter with his bare feet, his soft pants, and his plain t-shirt.
Painter’s scruff was thicker; it made him look more mature. His hair was longer too, winter dark at the roots, summer bleached at the ends. He looked altogether delicious.
Painter stepped a little closer, “It’s good to see you,” he said, “I missed you,”
“Yeah, me too,” Brio couldn’t look at him yet, the energy was too overwhelming, “I didn’t want to come by and see you until you were settled.” He indicated the studio, “This is awesome,” and the sculptural ropework, “And this, fuck, this is just amazing,”
“Yeah, I really got into the ropework, turns out I’m a bit arty!”
“Who knew!”
“Not me!”
They both laughed.
“It’s a bubble,” Painter said,
“I guessed,” Brio replied, “It’s so beautiful,”
“I hoped you would get to see it, one day,”
“I’m glad I did,”
Silence fell between them. A baited breathing space, whilst their energy swelled around them.
“So, how have you been?” Painter asked eventually.
“Good,” Brio managed to raise his head and look him in the eye, briefly, “No orgies, no arrests, no lasting damage,”
“No lasting damage?” Painter’s voice dropped dangerously low and his expression turned dark.
“Only my heart,”
Painter looked at him steadily.
“And I’m trying to fix that,”
Brio knew Painter, knew him with every facet of his multiple personality. He could feel him, even now, after all these months.
Painter swallowed and his jaw was tight, his hands were deep in his pockets. Brio knew what he wanted to do with his hands, he wanted to claim, to tie, to hold, to take ownership, to control, because it was all about control.
“I love you,” Brio said, “Just you. Me, not so much, but you, I love. Please come back to me, for free, forever,”
Epilogue
Cashel and the risks worth taking
Painter kissed Brio carefully and with purpose, “I love you,” he said, “Thank you for letting me hurt you in the way I need to,”
Brio’s gaze was steady and calm, he had eyes for nothing but Painter, “You are my world,” he said, “Thank you for letting me be what you need,”
Cashel felt tears prick his eyes and he blinked them away rapidly.
Painter moved around Brio slowly and with intent, he wove the ropes around Brio’s elegant length and touched and talked quietly to him as he moved. Brio was pliant, doe-eyed, and docile, only his head tilting to catch his Dom’s words of instruction and praise.
Birch pressed against Cash’s side and together they watched silently as Painter drew Brio up into suspension, floating him within the ropework bubble they shared.
When Painter turned Brio upside down and started to cut him out of his clothes Cash felt Tay touch him lightly on the shoulder, making him jump “Demo part is over guys. Time to leave them to it,” he said, quiet and firm.
Cashel nodded and silently he and Birch followed Tay from the studio.
“That was intense!” Birch’s voice was quiet and he sighed, “The connection between them, it’s beautiful but it’s overwhelming,”
“Yeah,”
Cash leaned against the wall and watched as Tay assessed Birch, “They are intense,” Tay said, “But then we specialize in intense don’t we,”
Birch nodded and hung his head, “I’m so glad they made it,” he said,
“It was touch and go there for a while there,” admitted Cash,
“It doesn’t always work out,” Tay said gently, “But sometimes you have to take the risk,”
“Well, you take the risks,” Cash said, “I just get to watch you take them,”
“Who will watch the watchers?” asked Birch, “I heard that on Star Trek,” he grinned and Tay reach out and ruffled his short hair, laughing at him.
From behind the closed studio door, Cash heard Brio cry out in ecstasy, a sound so joyous, so free, so pure it made his throat dry, that was a risk well taken, he thought to himself with no small amount of envy.
Coming Soon
If you enjoyed “Paid to take Control” there are two further standalone short scenes with Painter and Brio coming soon.
Due to be Punished
and
Due to be Praised
For notifications of new releases follow Romilly King’s Amazon page at https://www.amazon.co.uk/Romilly-King/e/B089VLJH2K/
About The Author
Romilly King
Romilly
is queer.
Romilly wakes up every morning and decides which (witch) to be. Some days Romilly is an Imp, some days a Fairy, some days a Stoic, and some days a Gladiator.
Romilly has a classical education, a filthy mouth and loves OTK spankings and strong Sirs who give love and punishment in equal measure.
Romilly is also very shy but makes every effort to engage with people from all walks of life.
Books By This Author
Paid to Kneel
RICHARD is desperate for money. With his Father needing long term care and graduate school looming he needs a lump sum of cash, and fast. Selling himself via the Delphic Agency seems the quickest way to get ahead of his problems but to earn the kind of money he needs Richard has to offer more than he bargained for.
Accepting a two week contract as resident submissive to a man who switches between casual friend and relentless dominant at the drop of a paddle leaves Richard sure of only two things – one, he wants to please this man more than anything and two, never mind the money, he never wants this to end.
But you don’t buy people from the Delphic Agency, only time, and as Richard falls repeatedly to his knees time is running out and Richard is no closer to knowing if the man who has awakened his inner submissive will want more of him or send him on his way.
PAID TO KNEEL is the first book in the Delphic Agency Series and contains Dom/Sub elements, plenty of steamy kink exploration and a surprising amount of love.
Free to be Tied
What can rope bring to a relationship? Well, it can hold you exactly where you need to be, for a start!
It is six months since Richard moved in with Ash. Six months of teasing frustration, ecstatic rewards, and a growing awareness of just how much he likes to hand control over to his Dom.