by Nora Phoenix
When he arrived at Ford's, putting his car in the garage he had the remote key code for, he still didn't have an answer. He forced himself to park the thought. Ford demanded full concentration in scenes, as distractions could have disastrous effects, he'd taught Rhys.
He found Ford in the basement, also known as the dungeon, where the man had a playroom set up that made Rhys drool.
"Hey, kid," Ford greeted him. Rhys bristled inside, but he didn't call the Dom out on it. Not his place, even though the Dom knew damn well how much Rhys hated being called that.
"Thanks for inviting me over."
"You're welcome, kid."
Rhys clenched his teeth. "Are you trying to get a rise out of me?" he asked, unable to keep himself from speaking up.
"It's an easy way for me to see where your temper is. The more emotional you are, the more you react to this. On a good day, you can take at least five kids before you react visibly and another five before you speak up," Ford said calmly.
Rhys felt like a balloon that was being deflated. "Sorry," he said. "It's been a long day."
Ford's strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Just be aware. That's all I'm asking. Be honest with yourself about how you feel and where your temper is at. Learning to control it is the next step, but you can't do that until you've learned to check in with yourself."
Rhys nodded. "Thank you."
It was frustrating, the reminder of how much he still had to learn. He'd been impressed with Ford from the first time he'd met him. At just shy of forty, the man was the single best Dom Rhys knew: steady, calm, very organized, and as ethical as they came. It made him sound like a total school boy, but he wanted to be Ford when he grew up.
When he'd told Ford that, he'd smiled. "Don't aspire to be me," he'd said. "Aspire to be the best version of you."
Days like today, with the painful reminder of how much growing he still had to do, brought the wisdom of that advice home. "I'll do better next time," he told Ford, who shot him what could only be described as a proud smile.
"I know you will."
The doorbell rang, and Ford nodded. "That will be Shawn."
Rhys stayed in the dungeon, taking his usual spot on a comfy chair in the corner. The sub who walked in a minute or so later was not at all what he'd been expecting. First of all, he was African American—a bit of a rarity in a club that was predominantly white, sadly. But aside from that, with his broad frame and well-developed muscles, Shawn defied every preconceived notion and stereotype of subs. If Rhys had met him somewhere, he would've never guessed him to be submissive.
Despite his impressive physique, there was something slightly off about his gait, the way he walked. He wasn’t so much favoring one leg as he seemed out of balance.
"Shawn, this is Master Rhys I told you about. He'll be watching only," Ford said. Shawn dipped his head in Rhys's direction, not meeting his eyes. Rhys appreciated that sign of respect. "You can ignore him from now on," Ford said. "Focus on me."
"Yes, Master," Shawn said.
"Let's start by getting you naked," Ford said.
As Shawn started undressing, the Dom shot a look of warning in Rhys's direction. He didn't understand it until Shawn dragged down his pants and revealed a prosthetic leg. He’d had a transfemoral amputation on his left side, and the remaining thigh and his other leg were covered in thick scars. Their redness suggested this was a relative new injury that was still healing. That explained the slight imbalance he’d spotted, then.
Rhys was grateful he'd seen much worse so his face wouldn't show any reaction. Not that Shawn even glanced in his direction as he neatly folded his clothes with a precision that suggested a military background.
When he was done, Shawn presented himself to Ford: his hands clasped behind his back, his posture ramrod straight, and his head bowed. He couldn't kneel, Rhys guessed, and yet everything in his posture communicated respect and submission to his master.
Ford studied Shawn, then walked around him to inspect him from every angle. He let out an appreciative hum. "Beautiful, Shawn. Perfect posture."
From his viewpoint, Rhys had a perfect view of Shawn's face, and it lit up at that simple praise. Any doubt Rhys had left about him being submissive vanished.
Ford took Shawn through the scene he'd planned, which was centered on sensory play, Rhys discovered, and made him state his safe word. Rhys watched in fascination as Ford tied Shawn down to his table in a relatively comfortable position on his back, double checking to make sure the straps he'd used weren't too tight. Then he blindfolded him, and the scene began.
Feathers were followed by pencils sharpened so much they looked like dagger points, then ice cubes, a hot breath blown over his body, a Wartenberg wheel, and velvety soft fabric until Shawn was squirming under the assault. His body responded to every little touch then, his cock leaking copiously. It was beautiful to see him brought to the brink again and again, and then have Ford back off.
And as he watched, his own dick iron hard in his pants, Rhys realized why Ford had wanted him to see this. If Cornell ever agreed to sub for him, their scenes wouldn't be conventional either. Cornell had too many physical limitations for that. No, Rhys would have to come up with scenes that he could do, like Ford had adapted to Shawn's abilities. That amputation had to have been mere months ago, his skin and the amputation wound still too painful to endure much standing. Ford had made it work, and that’s what Rhys would have to do as well.
When he drove home that night—after watching Shawn have the orgasm of his life after an hour and a half of edging—his mind was already plotting and planning. The chance of Cornell ever submitting to him was low, but if he ever did, Rhys would be ready for him.
8
Cornell woke up before his alarm went off, his morning wood in full glory after yet another dream with Rhys in the lead role. Only this time, he’d been full-on dominating Cornell, teasing him and edging him, then telling him he couldn’t come. The result was a hard-on that could pound nails, and this time, Cornell didn’t even hesitate to wrap his hand around himself, sneaking underneath his pajama pants.
He’d only gotten a few jerks in when the all-too-familiar knock on the door came. It was almost a repeat of yesterday’s scene, except he’d come already then, but everything had changed now, hadn’t it? He stilled, debating what to do. Should he tell Rhys to put the breakfast in front of the door? That seemed somewhat harsh. Besides, he’d have a hell of a time picking it up, so no.
But letting him come in? It would be the same awkwardness as yesterday, only now with him trying to cover up his arousal rather than a wet spot. Except, why should he have to cover it up? If Rhys wanted to be treated like an adult and all that, he could damn well learn to deal with that as well, no? And the fact that on some level, it felt like getting back at him a little didn’t hurt either.
Feeling positively rebellious, Cornell called out, “Come on in!”
He watched Rhys as he came in, a hesitant smile on his face that was instantly wiped off when his eyes dropped to Cornell’s hand, which was still wrapped around his dick. Only the crown of his cock peeped out from underneath his underwear and pajama pants, but it was enough to make Rhys swallow visibly.
“I see you’re off to a good start of the day,” Rhys said as he finally tore his eyes away and put the breakfast tray on the desk, as he’d done for the last few days. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, avoiding Cornell’s eyes as he walked out.
“You’re not gonna try to stop me?” Cornell asked him.
Rhys slowly turned around. “Do you want me to?”
Cornell harrumphed. “You’re not my Dom.”
“You know, I’d never pegged you for a bratty sub,” Rhys said, and Cornell’s eyes widened.
“I’m not a brat,” he said with all the indignity he could muster, considering he still had his hand wrapped around his dick.
“Deliberately baiting and challenging a Dom? That’s bratty behavior in my book,” Rhys said calmly.
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Oh, how Cornell wanted to fire back that Rhys couldn’t possibly know jack shit about things at his age, but he couldn’t. It was mean, hitting him where he knew it would hurt, and untrue to boot.
“I’m not baiting you,” he said, and much to his own chagrin, he could hear the pout in his tone.
Rhys folded his arms across his chest. “Do I need to point out that you were jerking off in front of me? Not sure what else to call that but baiting me.”
The fact that Rhys was so calm about it took Cornell’s thunder away. “You keep interrupting me in the mornings,” he said, pouting even more. God, what was he, a teenager again? “That’s why I asked for privacy yesterday, but you made such a big deal out of it.”
Rhys shook his head. “I made a big deal? All you had to do was tell me you wanted to jack off, and I would’ve walked away.”
“Like you would’ve given me permission,” Cornell said, and his cheeks flushed as he realized what he had blurted out.
To his credit, Rhys looked like he was trying not to grin, though he failed miserably. “I didn’t know you wanted or needed my permission.”
“I don’t,” Cornell said. “I don’t know why I said that. Besides, I had already come yesterday anyway, but I didn’t want you to see that.”
“And you’re telling me this, why?”
God, he was infuriating. He was so calm and collected when Cornell felt like he was losing it by the second, stammering and making a complete fool out of himself.
“I wanted to let you know I need some privacy in the mornings,” he said, unable to come up with a more plausible reason. Well, there was one, but no way was he sharing that with Rhys. He’d shown enough of his hand already. Then again, he’d always sucked at playing poker.
“I suggest you wake up earlier, then,” Rhys said. “I’m here every morning at eight sharp. You wanna jack off before breakfast, set a damn alarm.”
He had a point there, Cornell had to admit. Again. He finally let go of his cock, which had lost interest anyway, and tucked himself back in. “Okay,” he said, surrendering to the inevitable.
“Yeah?” Rhys asked, clearly surprised.
“What do you want me to say?” Cornell snapped. “You’re right, okay. I was baiting you.”
“I know. I recognize a bratty sub when I see one.”
“You don’t like bratty subs?” The question was out of Cornell’s mouth before he even realized it, and his cheeks heated up all over again. How infuriating that in his forties, he still hadn’t gotten over that insane habit of blushing. “Forget I asked that,” he said quickly.
Rhys merely grinned at him. “Go eat your breakfast before your coffee gets cold. And wash your damn hands first.”
“Yogurt again, I hope?” Cornell asked.
“Yes, but with some added flax seed, which I know you’re not a fan of. But if you eat all of it, I have a reward for you later.”
Cornell felt himself respond to it, the promise of that reward for good behavior. How he longed to please Rhys, even if he wasn’t his Dom. Then he caught himself. “That’s what you’ve been doing the last few days,” he said slowly. “Getting me to do things by promising me a reward.”
“Yes,” Rhys admitted instantly. “And I figured I’d keep doing it until you tell me to stop, to show you that I can be open about it.”
“It feels like being manipulated,” Cornell said.
Rhys cocked his head in a gesture that was so much like Jonas that a wave of emotion barreled through Cornell. “Why?” Rhys asked. “You’re wired to respond well to rewarding good behavior. Why is that manipulation if I recognize that and use it to help you?”
“Who says you won’t use it to make me do something I don’t want to?” Cornell said. “If you know what I respond to, you could abuse that.”
Rhys looked like Cornell had slapped him. “I guess that’s where trust comes in,” he said. “The faith you should have in me that I would never abuse that knowledge.”
Cornell hesitated, but then decided honesty was the only way if they had any hopes of moving past this. “I’m not sure I have that level of trust in you right now,” he said softly. “Not after what you did.”
Rhys’s shoulders dropped even lower. “I can understand that. I’m sorry for suggesting the reward. It’s what I’ve been doing for the last few days after seeing how well you respond to it, and I figured that if I stopped now, it would be like admitting I had been manipulating you…which I haven’t.”
“I can see that,” Cornell said. “But I don’t know yet how I feel about it, okay? Let’s just take it one day at a time and be open about this.”
Rhys nodded quickly. “Open communication is always good,” he said. Then he met Cornell’s eyes. “Does that mean you’ve decided to stay?”
Cornell sighed. “No. It means I haven’t decided to leave.”
* * *
Rhys wasn’t sure if his conversation with Cornell had been a victory or a defeat. Maybe a little bit of both? He thought he’d been on the winning side, until Cornell had dropped that little bomb at the end, about not trusting Rhys. And if that hadn’t hurt enough, he’d added the bonus of not being sure yet if he wanted to stay.
Well, Rhys should’ve known better than to think Cornell would just get over it, that one day was enough to move past it. He wouldn’t, and frankly, it wasn’t fair to expect that of him. This would take time, which was hard considering Rhys’s lack of patience. He’d have to learn.
He was almost tempted to text Ford and ask him how to grovel to a sub, but he wasn’t sure that would be smart. Ford tended to expect him to actually do something with his suggestions, so he would follow up, expecting a detailed account of what would no doubt be a massive humiliation for Rhys. Yeah, better not.
Then again, he had already asked Ford something similar, or Ford had given advice himself, Rhys couldn’t remember how he’d worded things. He’d told Rhys he should show Cornell he was trustworthy by being the Dom that he needed. So, that’s what Rhys would do. As much as Cornell would allow him, he would take care of him the best way he could.
When Cornell walked into the living room after having showered, Rhys was ready for him. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to do some more massage and exercises with you,” he said. “I know we’re still working on trust, but I hope you do trust me as a physical therapist.”
Much to his relief, Cornell hesitated only briefly before nodding and saying, "Yeah, I do. And I’d appreciate that because the massage you gave me before provided relief already."
Then his eyes narrowed, and Rhys had no trouble guessing where his mind had gone. Still, he waited to see if Cornell would bring it up. It was a strange thing to say about a man Cornell’s age, but he truly looked adorable when he was flustered, like he was now. The way his teeth troubled his bottom lips, the slight blush on his cheeks, his eyes that only dared to peek at Rhys.
It was as if knowing Rhys was a Dom had made him behave more like a sub, interestingly enough. Before, Rhys had caught glimpses of it, but they’d been mixed in with the professional Cornell, the detail-oriented, put-together lawyer. Or friendly, almost avuncular Cornell, who’d tried to behave like Rhys’s godparent. But now, he saw more of the unfiltered Cornell, and he loved it.
“Did you…” Cornell started, then stopped again, and Rhys took pity on him.
“Did I know you had a happy ending to the massage two days ago? Yes, I did.”
Cornell groaned. “Oh god. What happened?”
Rhys shrugged, determined to keep it light. “You fell asleep, or something close to it, and in that dreamlike state, you started humping the table. I let you.”
Cornell looked at the floor. “Did you…help me?” he asked softly.
“I didn’t touch you,” Rhys said, anger flaring up at the suggestion. “Well, I touched your back, obviously, but that’s it.”
“Then how…?”
“You respond well to touch,” Rhys said. “When I switched from a deep tis
sue massage to a relaxing one, you…reacted. That’s all. And it happens to a lot of male patients, so no need to feel embarrassed.”
“Out of curiosity, do people ever stop feeling embarrassed when someone tells them not to?” Cornell asked, a flash of his humor back. “Because for the love of everything holy, it has never worked on me.”
Rhys couldn’t help but chuckle. “True. It’s like telling people to calm down. At no point in the history of mankind have people calmed down when being told to.”
Cornell laughed too, but then his face sobered. “So maybe let me decide whether or not to feel embarrassed, no?”
Rhys nodded. “Point taken. Let me rephrase it then and state that it’s normal for the male body to respond like that, especially for someone who’s as sensitive to touch as you are.”
Cornell looked at him funny. “What do you mean?”
Rhys frowned. “You know you’re super responsive to touch, right?”
The puzzled look on Cornell’s face only intensified. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
How was it possible that he’d been a sub for so long and had never realized that? Hadn’t his Doms ever picked up on it? Or they had, and they’d assumed he knew, like Rhys had. Either way, this was not a conversation he wanted to have on the go.
“Can you sit with me for a bit so I can explain?” he asked.
Cornell nodded, then carefully sat down on the couch. “It’s funny, but now that I know about you being a Dom, I can’t believe I missed it. It’s so obvious,” he said.
That was a compliment, right? Rhys decided he’d take it as one. After all, it meant Cornell was responding to it, so clearly, he was doing something right. “Thank you.”
He sat down across from him, then searched for the best way to broach the subject. “I know I haven’t earned the right to ask you anything, but for this particular conversation, it would really help if you could humor me and share a little about your experiences and preferences as a sub,” he said.