by Jodi Payne
“Yes, sir,” Nikki replied simply.
“When you spend so much time worrying about the basic needs of your body—food, shelter, safety—you aren’t able to spend time on the needs of your soul. But I have seen those needs, boy. You’ve shown them to me. And I have heard them in your words, when you tell me that you feel real, you feel free. I believe it has been there all this time, the way you crave being relieved of responsibility, and I want to take it from you and open up a new path. One in which you will serve me and in exchange your every need will be fully met. That is what the next forty or so hours will be about. We will talk when it’s over and discuss how it felt to you. And you always have your words.”
Bradford paced away a bit, giving Nikki a chance to catch up, to think.
“I expect mistakes, and please don’t worry. I will forgive them. I expect your emotions and your sense of self will get in the way sometimes and make it difficult for you. That’s normal and understandable. My only requirement is that you do your best to overcome those things. Do your best, and I will not be disappointed. Avoid making the same mistake twice, and I will be quite pleased. Recognize and acknowledge your issues honestly as they come up, and you will make me proud.”
He leaned forward and placed his hand on Nikki’s spine between the boy’s shoulder blades. “Breathe, boy.”
He grinned as Nikki took an enormously deep breath.
“I know it’s difficult, but trust me when I tell you that you can’t disappoint me if I can tell you’re trying. I promise.”
“I trust you, sir.”
That was the truth. He knew he had the boy’s trust, and that was remarkable. “Good boy.” He lifted his hand away and continued. “There is more to our evening together, but I think we’re done in this room. How do you feel?”
“Warm. A little sore. Fine, sir. Good.”
He nodded. “Fetch my jacket from the closet, boy, and help me on with it.”
Nikki stood and moved to the closet, not rushing, but the boy’s movements were economical, purposeful. He slipped his arms into the jacket as the boy held it open for him.
“Good. You will straighten up in here and dress, return our keys to the bar, then come home. I will be in my study. Use the restroom and meet me there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, boy. Make absolutely sure you feel ready to serve me before you open my study door. Take your time, I don’t expect you in a hurry.”
“Yes, sir. I will, sir.”
“Good boy.” Bradford cupped Nikki’s cheek, smiling. The boy’s eyes were low, but Bradford felt him lean in. “Lovely, boy.” He turned and left the room.
17
The party hadn’t even started, and it had already been a busy day. Nikki knelt close by while Bradford—while Sir got a manicure, a facial, and a straight-razor shave from this barber who actually came to the brownstone. The guy had hot washcloths and the weird shaving cream in a cup and a strap, or strop, or whatever it was called. Nikki spent a bunch of time helping Sir dress in a seriously sweet tux tailored to Sir and made of black silk with a soft leather collar, and a pair of shoes that Nikki had polished over and over until they sparkled.
Nikki also helped Sir fasten on a pair of black onyx and platinum cufflinks with the letter “H” on them, that Sir said he wore every year on his birthday, though he hadn’t said why.
Sir was in a great mood, looked amazing in all black, and seemed totally ready for a party.
Nikki was ready too—well, dressed anyway. He was still working on his headspace and trying to get over his nerves. He was standing in display in the middle of Sir’s bedroom, wearing all white, which was the dress code for the party: subs in white, Doms in black. Sir put him in a toga-style wrap of all things that…well, apart from a sort of nod to modesty, wasn’t really much of anything. That was part of what made him nervous, though he knew there would be boys wearing even less.
He missed his leather harness a little. It was strange how it had become a bit of a security blanket, reminding him where he was and telling everyone he belonged there. It helped him remember to stand up straight too. It was funny though—every time Sir walked by, Nikki’s shoulders would pull back a little. He found himself wanting to please Sir more and more.
God, Nikki. Focus. Why was this so hard?
He closed his eyes for a second, mentally shaking his head at himself. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tried to concentrate.
“Excellent, my boy.”
He smiled. Sir didn’t miss anything. “Thank you, sir.”
In the two weeks since he’d made that horrible mistake in their scene together, Sir had been working with him and talking through the basics, in-scene and out. Sometimes as a sub under an agreement for the evening or a day, but sometimes just in the kitchen over breakfast. They’d talked about ways that he could practice letting his own needs go when he was serving and try to anticipate Sir’s needs instead.
He was enjoying this. The trust. The learning, the mistakes and the joy of knowing he’d be forgiven. He still didn’t understand why he was drawn to the cross and the sting of Sir’s instruments, but he was. And that place he went inside his head was…it felt like safety. It felt like freedom. It made him feel kind of…high almost. Sir told him understanding would come, that it took time, but they would find it together.
Somehow that was okay. Nikki believed him.
It was amazing. Despite being given so much, Sir never asked him to be anyone else. When he wasn’t serving, he still came and went when he wanted to, had days off to himself, and he still did his job with Levi as his boss. Sir told him all the time that living this lifestyle was his choice; he was free to come and go as he pleased, that his restrictions were only valid when they were under an agreement—
Whoa. Time to reel it in. He pictured a red dot in the center of his forehead and mentally stared at it, practicing the mantra he’d taught himself to keep his mind from wandering.
How can I best serve Sir—right now?
The answer was easy. Right now, Sir wanted him to be still, and think about the rules for tonight. He ran them through in his head. Meet no one’s eyes, even other subs. Stay close to Sir’s shoulder but don’t hide back there. Speak only when directly spoken to. Expect to do a lot of kneeling. Stay focused—obviously the hardest rule of all for him tonight.
He wasn’t nervous about the rules. He wasn’t even all that nervous about making a mistake. What made him nervous, what that now very familiar part of him was actually dreading, were all the eyes that would be on him. The Doms and the subs looking at him and knowing that Sir had chosen him tonight. That of all the subs at the club, most of whom had much more experience than he did, Sir had chosen him for this party. It felt like a lot of pressure.
Sir had proposed a compromise, where he and Brian would alternate serving, so that Nikki could go somewhere private and breathe every once in a while if the social thing got too heavy. Sir said Brian had agreed easily, and no wonder. Brian was always eager to serve Sir. And it was good to know that he could have a little freak-out if he needed to.
“Are you ready, boy?”
No?
“Yes, sir.” Nikki leaned into Sir’s hand where it cupped his cheek.
“My boy. What am I asking of you tonight?”
“That I do my best, sir.”
“Just so, boy. I can’t ask more of you than that.”
You say that all the time.
“Naturally, there will be near-perfect subs in attendance with years of training. I don’t need perfection. You will see subs that can walk to heel without falter. I don’t need that from you, either. Perfection, a beautiful showing, is admirable to be sure. But a boy who is earnest and wants to please can be even more impressive. The members will see how sincere you are in your desire to serve me and will forgive any fault.”
Bradford sounded so sure, and really, he owned the club. He should know.
“I want to make you proud, sir.”
Sir leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, the affection reassuring and thrilling at the same time. “That was an excellent beginning. Shall we?”
He smiled and followed Bradford toward the doors to the club, the private ones leading from the brownstone. Allowing kisses had been his idea. He still wasn’t ready to add sex into things, but he’d gifted Sir an agreement for his birthday that included kissing. Sir had been pleased and appreciative.
“Breathe, boy. Eyes down, no more than an arm’s length from my shoulder. Speak only if spoken to, or if you need something. Remember your Master believes in you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” He took a deep breath and followed Sir through the doors and into the dining room.
They were fashionably late, of course, and the dining room was busy. Sir was a bit of a showman, and Nikki knew the man liked to make an entrance. Nearly every table was in use, and the large round table in the center of the room was a sea of black and white, full of Sir’s personally invited guests, subs kneeling next to their chairs. As they approached that table, Sir pointed to the floor and he knelt as smoothly as he could manage, settling into his display position. He kept his eyes on the floor, but he could feel Sir’s friends looking at him, heard his name.
“Happy Birthday, old man!”
“Stunning, Bradford. Nikki looks great. I’m a fan of the toga.”
“Goodness, you old pervert, your boy is young. How long have you been working with him?”
Breathe. Breathe. You belong to Sir, he has your back. Breathe. How can you best serve him—right now?
He checked his posture, relaxing into it, willing the physical act to outweigh his mental struggle.
“We’ve been working together in earnest for a month or so now. Perhaps a little longer. And he is twenty, but his youth hasn’t been anything but an asset so far.”
“I’ll bet,” someone said, and the table laughed.
“Ah, Kent. I must ask you not to embarrass the boy, he’s working very hard tonight.”
There was a short pause and then a voice, Master Kent’s he guessed, said, “Of course. My apologies, Bradford.”
“Thank you.”
“He looks wonderful, and so eager. That’s a gift you’re giving your Master, boy. A lovely gift.”
Oh, God. Someone is talking to me. Do I say ‘Yes, sir’? ‘Thank you’? Something else? He tried not to panic.
A hand settled on his back. “You may thank Master Arturo, boy.”
Oh, thank God. An answer. He nodded. “Yes, sir.” That came out kind of strangled, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Thank you, Master Arturo.”
“You are most welcome. Not to worry, boy. Everyone was new once. The other boys around this table all remember what it was like when they were starting out.”
“Good boy.” Sir whispered to him, squeezed his shoulder, and went back to the guests.
He took a deep breath and checked his posture again, willing his fingers to stop shaking. He was okay, right? Sir totally got it and was right there. He was okay. You’re okay.
Sir chatted with the men at the table for a while longer, and Nikki was relieved to feel the focus shift away from him and onto regular things like dinner, wine, golf games, music, and sports scores. He let himself float a little, paying attention to his shoulders, his hands, his spine, his breathing, the feel of the fabric of his toga against his bare skin.
He checked his concentration, but he knew he didn’t need to. He was doing this right. How could he best serve Sir right now?
He was already doing it.
A little thrill ran through him, knowing he was doing his best, happy to be pleasing Sir. He only savored it for a moment though, not wanting to get distracted now that he’d finally found the zone.
“Come, boy.” Bradford’s voice cut through his tight concentration. When he stood to follow, he noticed that most of the men were already well into their meals, but…just a moment ago they hadn’t yet been served, right? When had they gotten their food? He blinked, wondering at the lost time, but he didn’t linger on it. His thoughts belonged to his Master.
“Yes, sir.” He stepped in behind Bradford’s shoulder. His eyes were low and his mind on his responsibilities, but he heard Brian whisper as the other boy stepped in alongside him.
“You look great.”
He wasn’t sure if speaking only when spoken to applied to other subs, so he didn’t reply, he just nodded his head at Brian. Brian reached over and squeezed his fingers.
18
“This was a wonderful party as always, Bradford.” Reed shook Bradford’s hand, his broad smile genuine.
“Did you enjoy your dinner?”
“I did. My salmon was just wonderful. I enjoyed the jazz band, the dancing, the cocktails…the whole thing reminded me very much of one of Harrison’s parties from the old days. I imagine that was deliberate, hm?”
He smiled. It had been, though all these years later, Bradford continued to keep his relationship with the club’s venerated former owner to himself. It was hard to believe, however, that Reed had no idea. It was even possible Harrison had told Reed, as they had been close friends. “I may have been feeling nostalgic.”
Reed gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Everyone that knew him misses his presence. But I can say with certainty that he would be very proud of the way you’ve made the club your own and still honored his tradition in the process. I know I am.”
As a member of what he thought of as the old guard of the club, the compliment was especially meaningful to him. “Thank you, sir.” He took a breath and looked at the sub behind Reed’s shoulder. “Did you enjoy your evening, Noah?”
“I did, sir. Thank you. It was a lovely party.” The boy smiled. “Master Reed is an accomplished dance partner.”
He chuckled. Reed had at one time been a ballroom dance instructor. “I should hope so. How are the two of you getting on?”
“Ah. Not as Noah had hoped, I’m afraid. I asked the boy to serve me for your party, but we likely won’t be working together long-term, unfortunately. I have great respect for Noah’s skill, however. He has been well trained.”
Dammit. Why not? “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m negotiating with another sub for the long-term. He was unable to be here this evening.”
“A member?” Bradford raised an eyebrow.
“Not yet. I’ll call you in a couple of days if things work out as I hope they will.”
“Please do.” He looked at Noah again. “Well. I’m sorry, boy. Let’s talk again this week at your convenience.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll call you.” Noah nodded to him, eyes still respectfully low.
“I’ve just promised to call the boy a car home, Bradford. If you’ll excuse us.”
“Yes, of course. Good night, gentlemen.”
How was it possible he couldn’t find a long-term match for one of the most skilled and respected subs at the club? Well. He’d work with Noah himself short-term if need be. He felt terrible for testing the match now, but he couldn’t have known about Reed’s potential arrangement with a sub outside of the club.
He looked down at Nikki, who had knelt beside him while he and Reed were talking, and ruffled his boy’s hair. “Come along, boy.”
Nikki managed to stay by his side for most of the party, and Bradford was very pleased about that. Brian only spelled the boy twice, and the rest of the evening he was able to show off two lovely, young subs at heel. Not a bad birthday present at all.
The black and white theme had been quite popular, with Doms and subs alike enjoying the look, and the very obvious indication of status. Some couples followed the color rule with black and white leather, some went for more stylized or upscale looks with outfits that hinted at tuxedos. A handful of couples went full-on costume party and were things like a devil and an angel, Batman and a nurse, and even Danny and Sandy from Grease.
So much fun.
Nikki and Brian’s matching short, white tog
as had been a hit, and Bradford had gone with his favorite black silk suit and Harrison’s cufflinks, which had essentially become his birthday party uniform at this point.
He wasn’t a young man anymore, so now that his party was at a low simmer and the evening had started to wear on, he whisked Nikki off to a room for a very short scene before turning in. Only a nightcap really, nothing heavy or lengthy, just something to make sure they were connecting and to reward his boy for a truly perfect evening. Thankfully, he’d arranged for Brian, Joe, Liam, and Andrew to close up the club after the party, so he could escort Nikki home and turn in whenever he pleased.
He looked at the boy, kneeling in front of him, chin high and eyes low, and marveled at how far Nikki had come. At how happy the boy seemed. There was really only one reward—well, one the boy would allow—for all this. He’d put the boy on the cross. He’d take the kisses that were offered to him while he could, then he’d give himself an orgasm to cap off the evening.
“Boy.”
“Sir?” Nikki was deeply settled and had been working hard to stay that way. He couldn’t have been more proud or more pleased by how the evening had gone.
“You’ve been such a good boy tonight, I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you, sir. Are you enjoying your birthday?”
Such a sweetheart. “I am, I have. I want to offer you a reward for all of your hard work.”
“Knowing that you’re proud of me is a reward, sir.”
“Oh, my boy. Knowing I am proud of you is rewarding, but not a reward. It should make you feel proud too. A reward is something for you, something you’ve earned for making me proud.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Stand up, boy.”
“Yes, sir.” Nikki stood, so petite even at full height. Just lovely.