Submissive Angel: A BDSM Romance Novella

by Joey W. Hill

  When Ange really got too close, a desperate plea breaking from his lips, Robert backed off. He rolled the condom on him, re-strapped his cock, tightening the one on the base so Ange knew he intended it to act as a cock ring, helping him obey his Master’s will and only come at his command.

  Then Robert started working him over with the whip again. This time he was intent on delivering the pain he’d promised, all those tiny metal pieces stinging Ange’s flesh. Robert did it with more precision, weight and focus as he went on, reminding Ange of how expertly he’d wielded the buggy whip at the store.

  His Master liked whips.

  The pain grew, burned over Ange’s skin, made him go from grunts to cries, to begging. Not for Robert to stop. At the primal base of his submission, Ange knew begging was the food a Master’s soul most craved, that plea for service, sacrifice and salvation.

  He wanted to give Robert that. He wanted to give him everything. Fuck, he was hurting. But pain had never felt so good.

  Robert shed the coat. The tight leather shirt beneath was short sleeved, showing off his biceps, the powerful body Ange wanted to overwhelm him. He’d felt that way ever since he’d first experienced the strength in Robert’s hands, touching him as he lay in the alley bleeding, not just from his body but from his soul.

  “Please…”

  “Keep begging, sub. I want you hoarse before the night’s over. From begging, from taking my come down your throat, from begging some more.” When Robert turned away to drape the coat over the back of a chair, the thin leather of the shirt creased over his broad back.

  As Robert resumed the flogging, Ange lost time, place, everything but sensation. Pleasure, pain and an excruciating, unforgettably punishing level of denied release. Robert’s gruff voice, his commands, were all that penetrated. When Ange’s pleading became involuntary cries of agony tearing from his throat, the agony of holding back, of enduring everything Robert demanded, Robert wrapped his fist around Ange’s re-strapped and latex-covered cock. While that bottom strap was helping Ange maintain some control, he was seriously wobbling on the edge of that cliff.

  “You are so beautiful,” Robert said. “You’re making everyone here want to fuck like rabbits. That’s driving you, too, whether you realize it or not. Shut your eyes. Listen.”

  Ange obeyed. After several ragged breaths that helped him get past the noise of industrial fans and heavy metal music, he heard it. Groans, thrusting, the sounds of equipment clanking, wood creaking. Cries, grunts. Slaps. He inhaled the scents of sex, leather, metal. “Master,” he breathed. “Please…”

  “What do you want?” Robert said, coming close, because his breath was on Ange’s face. “Keep those eyes closed, and you better not reach for my mouth. You have zero permission to do anything I haven’t explicitly told you to do.”

  Ange let out a sound close to a whimper, increasing the ruthless satisfaction in Robert’s voice. “You’re getting it now. Just how cruel I can be. How much I can demand from you. Remember that, next time you risk anything that’s mine, put down something that’s mine, doubt something that’s mine. You are my angel, Ange. You can soar to the heavens, but you’ll remember you wear my collar, won’t you? You’ll remember who owns you, body and soul. I won’t let that binding break. You’ll never fall. I’ve got you. Always.”

  Tears stung Ange’s eyes. “Yes, Master. Yes. Please…”

  “What do you want, Ange?”

  “To do anything that pleases you.”

  “This pleases me. To do this all night long.”

  That produced another groan and a spike of terror through Ange’s gut, but it came hand in hand with total willing submission. It was as Ange had thought when he was in the locker room. He would accept anything Robert wanted to demand of him. He just wanted to belong to his Master, be used and fucked by him. To love him, be kept by him, serve him…be together forever. Always.

  He was speaking, mumbling things like that. Robert’s hand was on his face again, his thumb moving over Ange’s lips, taking in the words through his flesh.

  “That’s what I want, too. You have only one focus right now. Serving me. Accepting and absorbing what I’m doing to you, everything it means. You control nothing. I have all of it.”

  As his Master spoke, Ange was aware of his hands moving over his body, his shoulders and hips. He’d done it several times, checking on Ange’s well-being. Things were aching, but nothing was unbearable. Nothing but the feeling in his heart, so explosive and large he feared the organ couldn’t take it. But it would. Just like the rest of his body.

  Until his Master said they were done.

  “All right, then,” Robert said, stepping back. “Here we go.”

  And so it went. Time and place were seized and taken from Ange—raptus, as Charlie had said. His Master was the center of everything. He played with Ange’s body, his property, with hands, whip, mouth. Called forth pain and pleasure, stroked Ange’s dick. He dragged over one of those metal chairs, stood on it and brought his own dick to Ange’s mouth. He had him suck and play a good while, rocking relentlessly into Ange’s stretched mouth before he withdrew. Then he stepped down and went after him with the whip again, for being too damn good at giving head.

  A Master’s perversity, which, if Ange survived this, would make him smile somewhere in the dark corners of his heart, where Robert was.

  Robert was in every part of him, dark and light.

  When finally Robert put the whip away, Ange was barely aware of it. He had no thoughts. He was all feeling. He was still pleading, but all his stripped voice could manage was a whisper.

  Ropes loosened as hands took their place. Charlie and Chase were helping him down, then giving him over to Robert’s care. Ange slid bonelessly into Robert’s grasp, his legs unable to bear his weight. The only thing that had any rigidity to it was the organ between his legs that Robert had teased and teased and teased, but had commanded Ange to keep in that state. No release until his Master said.

  Which meant they weren’t done.

  Robert practically carried him to a spanking bench, and Ange was leaned over it. His Master wrapped his limp wrists in Velcro in front of him, knees propped on a padded step and strapped down. Ange’s heart somersaulted in gratitude as Robert employed his knife again, in just the way he’d hoped. He cut the slender strip running between Ange’s buttocks and ripped open the back of the tights. His Master used his strong fingers to finish the job of pulling the fabric out of his way, exposing Ange’s bare ass to the heated air of the club.

  Lube trickled in as Ange quietly moaned, a sound of need and hope. When Robert thrust into him, hard enough Ange was pressed against the side of the bench, he cried out in a relief so great it was a guttural shout.

  “Come for me, Ange.”

  His body bowed up and then jacked out violently, a rasping shriek breaking from him. No hesitation, just instant capitulation to his Master’s command. Yet the spurts of his ejaculation seemed to go on forever. Even when that was done, his body was still dry humping, caught in the power of the release. He’d never felt a climax like it. Tears were running down his face, his muscles burning.

  But Robert kept going. As Ange gasped and groaned through it all, at the bruising grip of his Master’s hand on his ass, the rough pounding of his cock, he realized this was an additional punishment, intended to reinforce the lesson Robert had dished out tonight.

  He was his Master’s favorite toy. The one he’d give up everything else to keep. That was what he’d said. And Ange would damn well care for himself, so he could give his Master everything he demanded; tonight, tomorrow and always.

  Robert at last started to release, those fierce thrusts becoming even more demanding. His climax went on for a long time, too. The idea of how much come was being jetted into his ass thrilled Ange, down to the soul. It confirmed how aroused his Master had been.

  When Robert finally finished, Ange’s cheek was pressed flat to the bench’s deep red upholstery, his tears making it sl
ippery. His hands were curling and uncurling above the straps. Robert had his lips on the back of his neck, large hands stroking down his shoulders, his back, over his ribs and hips. The touch said the same thing over and over, in different ways. The same things Robert was whispering.

  Good boy. Love you. Good sub. You did well.

  Ange had no strength to do anything, but his Master made it clear his only requirement was to be still. The straps were removed from his wrists, and Robert adjusted him so Ange was draped over the bench rather than stretched across it.

  For the next little bit, he was cosseted, muscles massaged, sore places rubbed with a soothing lotion. The jock was removed, and an oversized white T-shirt was put on him. He was shirt-tailing it, everything hanging loose beneath, just as his Master wanted it.

  Robert had an arm around his waist, and was helping him to his feet. They didn’t have to go far. Just to the nearest couch, where Ange was pulled down into Robert’s lap, his legs sprawled out over the cushions. As he drifted in and out, he heard Robert’s voice, Charlie’s and others.

  Gradually he came back to himself, enough to become aware of his surroundings. Robert’s hand was beneath the T-shirt. With relaxed frequency, he’d been stroking Ange’s limp cock, his upper thighs and the curve of his ass. Ange’s long legs were stretched out, his feet resting against Charlie’s thigh. Charlie’s hand was draped over his ankles.

  Charlie was giving Ange’s toes a look and grinning in Robert’s direction. “You’re lucky it’s me down here. Theopolis would have these things painted a festive Christmas red with green sparkles.”

  Robert chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against Ange. “Good thing it’s you, then. Though I doubt he’d notice. Think he’s as spaced as a sub can get.”

  “I’m here,” Ange said. “If it’s okay to say so, Master.”

  “It is.” As Charlie turned his attention to conversation with another couple of Doms, letting them have their aftercare privacy, Robert touched Ange’s face, drawing his eyes up again. “Hey there, kid. Welcome back.”

  Ange wasn’t sure if he really was all the way back, but his Master knew that.

  “The club you visited, with the Dom that mentored you that night. Was that club like this one?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Tell me about it. In detail.”

  Ange fought the clumsiness of his thoughts, sorted through them to answer. He understood Robert had asked the casual question to help ground him, bring him back to earth. Yet somehow his answer morphed into far more intimate info. Like how this experience with Robert was so very different. And how the more Ange opened up to Robert, his Master did the same with him. And he was so glad for that. For everything his Master gave him of himself.

  He couldn’t stop the flow of words coming from deep in his head, expressing his desire to be so inside of each other that they could almost anticipate one another’s thoughts, a connection so strong nothing could break it. They already had some of it, but he wanted it to be that way on everything.

  He never would have said such things to Robert, to anyone, figuring they’d think he was crazy. But right now, in this space, it felt like it wouldn’t bother Robert. He’d understand.

  Robert’s gaze never left Ange’s face. When Ange simply ran out of words, Robert’s expression said he didn’t need them anymore, anyway.

  He’d understood from the first.

  Ange’s fingers were playing with Robert’s free hand, resting on his thigh. “Love you, Master,” he said sleepily.

  Robert held him closer, brushing his lips over his forehead. “Same goes,” he said.

  Ange sent him a look under his lashes. “The leather was seriously hot.”

  “Tell us about it,” Charlie interjected. “Robert, when you come back to the fold, you do it with serious fucking style. Maddie would have loved it. She’d have expressed her approval so enthusiastically it would have earned her a major spanking.”

  Robert smiled. However, his intent dark brown eyes hadn’t left Ange, and Ange understood the message there.

  It was time to be together, just the two of them. His Master was ready to go home. They both were.

  Chapter Twelve

  They spent some time in the tub, then moved to Robert’s blissfully large bed. He kept Ange right up against him, draped over his body, his hands moving over him. First to reinforce the aftercare. Then because he wanted him again. He pushed his sub onto his back, pressing Ange’s thighs open and up, and fucked him, a slow, languid thing. He stared down into Ange’s face while the kid shuddered and came apart, came on his abdomen and chest. Then Robert cleaned him back up and returned to the bed, pulling him into a boneless drape over Robert again.

  The room held a heated mix of his and Ange’s scents, the additional spice of post-coital sex and faint sweat. Robert liked it.

  He let them doze awhile, but he had something on his mind, a question he wanted answered. When he asked it, he kept his tone mild, a rumble in the tranquil darkness.

  “I want the full answer this time, from your heart. Why don’t you want to dance professionally again?”

  Ange slid his hand across Robert’s chest, fingers threading through the mat of hair. He traced circles on Robert’s pec before he spoke.

  “You remember when I had that moment with Helena, when I came off the stage? I told her I didn’t wish any of it had happened, but if I hadn’t bolted, I wouldn’t have found the man I love. I know you’ll say I sound stupid.”

  “You don’t tell me what I’ll say or why I’ll say it,” Robert said, injecting a firm note of reproof. Even as he tightened his arm around Ange. “And remember what I said. I just want to be sure that you know loving me doesn’t mean you have to limit yourself. I suggested the community center because you’re so good with kids. But I’m not going to push you toward something you don’t really want to do.”

  “I know.” Ange tilted his thoughtful gaze up. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ve also been thinking of something else. Adult dance classes are usually about ballroom dancing, or shag, things like that. I thought I might offer to teach adult ballet. Something along the lines of ‘yeah, you didn’t get to take ballet as a kid, but you can do it now, have fun with it.’ We could do a video of me showing you a couple moves.”

  “I’d choose someone who actually has some dance aptitude. Like Charlie. He and Amos used to do the dissssco together.” Robert returned Ange’s quick grin, adding, “Lumbering grizzly bears have better dance skills than me.”

  “Well, your last name is Bauer.”

  Robert squeezed him. “That actually means peasant or farmer.”

  Ange’s gaze slid to the dresser, drawing Robert’s attention to the Lehmann toy. “Fournier means baker in French.”

  Robert brushed his lips across his forehead. “You are so insanely irresistible.”

  Ange chuckled, then sobered again. “My dreams have changed, Master,” he said slowly. “They changed…that day. I don’t need to dance at professional level anymore; I don’t want to. The desire is gone.”

  He took a breath. Robert increased his hold around him, sensing the words came painfully. “That day on stage, I saw a side of the world I can’t ever unsee. It wounded my heart, broke it.”

  After something like that, life changed, perspectives changed. Robert got it.

  Ange propped himself on an elbow, stared down into Robert’s face. “I put it back together, with you, but it has a different shape now. It wants different things. It wants you. That’s the most important thing, the thing I love even more than dance. Or as the center of the dance, if that makes sense.”

  Dance wasn’t about a stage to Ange. He’d found a different place in the world, a different purpose and way to nourish his heart. The flower had gone back to earth through the cold winter and was pushing back up for a new spring, a new season.

  I was able to fix you…

  “Ange,” Robert said, his voice thick.

  As he
caressed Ange’s well-sculpted jaw, let his hand drift over the round of his shoulder, Robert knew it was official. He’d no longer try to buffer himself against the grief or loss that change could bring. If he was being offered the gift of this man’s desire to belong to him, he would grasp it with both hands, leaving behind any safety harness.

  “That moment with Clarissa and Leo told me how much genuine pain there is in the world,” Ange continued, his green eyes brilliant, even in the semi-darkness. His mouth was curved in a bittersweet way, his next words echoing Robert’s own thoughts. “Anything that lessens it, helps the heart survive it, is a gift. You did it for me, and then you gave me the honor of letting me do it for you.”

  He shot Robert an impulsive smile. “Dance lifts the heart. I like the idea of bringing that gift to people at the community center. And I definitely want to go back to the queens’ house, dance with them again. See Amos. Did that answer your question, Master? I mean every word of it.”

  Gazing into Ange’s beautiful earnest face, Robert nodded slowly. “Yeah. It does.”

  His sub had learned what Robert had. The uncertainty of the world could only be balanced by faith in something far less uncertain. Love, reinforced every day, in ways as limitless as the dance of life itself. Or what could be explored between Master and sub.

  He drew Ange back down to him, holding him close. “Get some sleep. I’m making you breakfast when we get up.”

  Ange glanced over at the clock, which showed an hour well past midnight. “Merry Christmas, Master,” he murmured, settling his head down on the pillow. When he crooked an arm over Robert’s chest, he combed through Robert’s chest hair, those sensitive fingers caressing a nipple. It sent a wave of pleasure through Robert’s body, tightening it. Damn if he wasn’t likely to take his beautiful danseur again before dawn.

  He couldn’t think of a better Christmas gift to give himself.