Another way (5 page)

“Cane or whip, Jesse?” Master asked. I winced. I wasn’t particularly fond of either, preferring the thud of a paddle or the sting of a flogger on my skin. But this was a punishment.

“Cane, Master,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

His warm hand rubbed circles in the middle of my back.

“You can be such a good boy, sometimes,” Master said musingly. He left me while he collected a cane, and I forced my breathing to even out. I craved the pain that would center me again.

“I won’t leave any lasting marks,” he said as he walked back across the playroom. “But I’ll warn you now, this is likely to sting.”

I was expecting him to start with my already sore ass, but instead the cane came down on the back of my thighs, causing an involuntary reflex in my hands as I gripped harder and grit my teeth against the pain.

“Count, please, and thank me for your punishment. Start with the next stroke.”

The swoosh of the cane alerted me to his swing and it thudded across the backs of my legs again.

“One. Thank you, Master.”

Again, hitting my ass this time, but the sting was dissipated by the warming it had already received.

“Two. Thank you, Master.”

He gave me ten strokes of varying strengths before rubbing down my ass and legs with oil to ease the tension. His fingers scratched my scalp lightly, making me almost purr with contentment before he moved on.

“We’re not done here, just yet. Your body, Jesse, it does things to me. You arouse me like no one has ever managed to do before. I want to mark you so fucking much,” he growled, the cane now lightly tapping the soles of my feet. I tried so hard not to scream; I was unable to wriggle away from the sensation that both tickled and really fucking hurt.

“Then fucking do it!” I exclaimed, the desperation for that act making me speak out of turn.

The cane cracked down across my ass, making me howl before resuming its torturous beat on my feet.

“You want my mark on you?” he repeated, my transgression forgotten already.

“Yes, Master,” I said on a sobbing breath.

The pain stopped. The sound of the cane stopped. The air around me stilled.

I could hear him walking away, returning the cane to its place on the wall while the only sound was of my uneven breaths and the blood rushing in my ears. Then he was back. And he was naked.

“Where to do it,” he murmured, his lips close to my neck. “Can’t make it permanent, of course. Not yet, anyway.”

Master bit down lightly on my shoulder. I whimpered.

“No. Neck, shoulders, upper back… too visible. Too easy for people to see.” His hands and lips skimmed down over my body. “Back of bicep? Oh, now that would look pretty. What a lovely spot for teeth marks.” He put his tongue there instead. I knew he would never mark me in an obvious place.

“Your ass is so pretty too,” he continued. “I love it. And look, you’re already wearing my stripes. But I think that has been tortured enough already tonight.”

There were sounds in the room that I was only dimly aware that I was making. I craved him, his touch, whatever it was he wanted to give me. As he kissed down the back of my leg, I let myself float in my subspace, knowing that I trusted him beyond anything else. Then,
finally
, his lips came down on the inside of my knee.

He sucked hard, breaking the blood vessels and causing the skin to bruise, and to finish, added his teeth to the mark. It was temporary, sure, and I could easily explain it away if needed, saying I’d walked into something. Only he and I would know how it had got there.

Knowing that I would be wearing the result of his need for me around for the week or so it took to heal almost pushed me over the edge. I nearly came, but fought it back.

“Yellow,” I gasped.

Master immediately released my hands but left my other bonds in place.

“Tell me where you are,” he said in a clear voice.

“I was going to come,” I said. “I need a moment to back down.”

“Shall I untie you?”

“No, that would make it worse,” I groaned.

“I’m here. If you need to end the session, use your word. There are no repercussions for using your safeword, Jesse. I’ll wait right here until you tell me you’re ready to continue.”

His words reassured me, even though he was repeating what I already knew. I took advantage of the fact my hands were free and ran them over my face, pushing my sweaty hair back, then rearranged my body back over the bench, making sure my wrists were in position so they could be attached again without Master having to move me. Then I took deep, clearing breaths and fought my mind away from the situation I was in. I had a mental list of genuinely mundane things I could do in my head while I forced attention away from my cock, and picked the task of wallpapering a room. By the time I had finished mentally hanging the last piece of paper, I was ready to keep going.

“Thank you, Master,” I said softly, sure now that I wasn’t going to fail him.

“No, thank
you
for your honesty, Jesse,” he said. “Is it okay for me to touch you?”

“Yes, Master.”

He crossed to me and took my hand, checking my pulse. Obviously satisfied, he collected a cool hand towel from the corner of the room and wiped down my neck and face.

“Good boy,” he said, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

My chest swelled with his praise. I expected him to tie me back down to the bench, but instead he released the ropes from my knees.

“Kneel for me,” he commanded.

My knees were weak as I stood and moved to the center of the room, the spot he meant when he commanded for this, and I knew he could have helped me, but instead he let me have my dignity. I was grateful for that.

He stood before me, naked and achingly hard, and I dropped my head and laced my fingers behind my head. This was perfect.

Chapter Four

H
E
LET
me wait in that position for a few moments, letting me collect myself before we continued.

“What do you want?”

“To serve you, Master,” I said immediately.

“Jesse, you may suck my cock,” Master said.

I leaned forward and hungrily swallowed him. Master groaned in encouragement, and I added my tongue to the act, swirling it around the head to gather his taste, then sucking him down my throat. I made my throat lax and my lips soft as I moved up and down his length, then added my teeth on the pull-up for an extra bit of friction.

“More tongue,” he commanded in a hoarse voice.

These little commands for attention to detail only spurred me on. I lapped at him harder, and he rewarded me with panting breaths and his fingers in my hair, guiding me.

I released his cock from my mouth and leaned down to lick at his balls, my tongue sucking first one, then the other into my mouth and rolling them around. Then I sought out the loose, sensitive skin behind them and felt his orgasm start to build, the telltale tightening and straining of his body preparing to shoot.

“Display,” Master ordered, and I reluctantly pulled back, straightening my body and spreading my knees, head held high and eyes down, hips jutting forward to show off my cock. My hands hadn’t moved from their position laced behind my neck, and I was hard for him again.

“Open your mouth,” he grunted as his hand flew over his straining cock, and I felt mine twitch as I guessed at what was about to happen.

He came in almost violent bursts, his hot come aimed at my mouth; some of it did land there, although a fair amount hit my cheeks and lips and neck and chest. I licked my lips and swallowed what he had given me, licking his sticky hand when that was offered to me too. The spunk cooled on my skin as I watched Master come down from his orgasm, the skin on his chest flushed pink, and in that moment I thrived on the humiliation, letting the shame throb through me. I had failed. He had corrected me. I was his.

“Good boy,” Master repeated, petting my hair softly. I held my display position, waiting for him to collect the cloth he had used earlier to wipe his hands. He eventually told me to stand and led me to the wall, where I braced my hands and forearms, sticking my ass back out to him so he could spread lotion into my reddened skin to help with the bruising.

Only then, once he had wiped his hands again, did he offer me the cloth so I could wipe my face. When I was done, I resumed my standing position in the center of the room so he could instruct me on my next task. I was hoping, desperately, that he would have changed his mind and would allow me to come—my cock was aching—but I wasn’t counting on it.

“Do not come,” he warned me again as he reached down to release my cock from the leather ring, and I had to grit my teeth to follow his command as the blood was allowed to flow again. He let me have a few moments, supposedly tidying up the playroom as I composed myself.

Then he removed the collar and cuffs from my neck and wrists, and leaned in to softly kiss my forehead.

“You did so well today, Jesse. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Master,” I said softly, still floating in my subspace even with the removal of my collar. It would take me a while to come down from the physical and emotional rollercoaster of the session.

“The session is over, Jesse,” he said just as softly. “Okay. Let’s go get you showered and dressed.”

“I can do it myself,” I said quietly, not arguing with him but not wanting Master to have to do things for me. I should be bathing
him.

“Oh no. You’ve just had a huge session, and you’re still floating. I want to be there in case you drop.”

“Thank you,” I told him and accepted his offered hand to walk with him.

We were mostly quiet as I took a quick, efficient shower and he leaned against the tiled wall in the guest bathroom, watching me. I tried not to feel self-conscious under his inquisitive, silent watch, telling myself he had seen me in much more intimate situations than this.

He held a towel out to me as I finished, and I had an overwhelming desire to be held by him.

“Come on,” he said, smiling and taking hold of my hand.

I followed him through to his room and saw my clothes neatly stacked on a carver chair in the corner. I quickly pulled my underwear and T-shirt on, but left my jeans off for the time being. My ass was still feeling sore.

Master—or maybe he was Will now—got a sweatshirt out of his closet and held it out to me.

“Thanks.” I shrugged into it gratefully and took his hand again as we headed back downstairs.

I was sort of surprised when we bypassed the kitchen and he led me through to his lounge, pulling me into an overstuffed armchair with him. I chose not to question his motives and just did what felt natural to me, curling into his side with my legs over his and my head tucked into his shoulder.

Will ran his hand through my still-damp hair, then leaned across to take a remote from the sofa and clicked on some soft music.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good,” I said honestly. “Relaxed, floaty, safe.”

“Good,” he echoed, his lips incredibly close to my face. I could feel his heart beating through the thin material of his shirt. He smelled like shower and fabric softener and…
man.

Coming down from the incredible high of the session like this was different. He’d taken me to new places, sure, but I’d never been held afterward. It was like finding your feet again after swimming for hours—the movements are familiar, but your knees always feel a bit weak. This was different, though; it was a mental challenge rather than a physical one.

I turned in his strong arms and was faced with his lips,
right there,
and I was desperate to kiss him. Will sighed softly, and I knew I had to find out what it would be like, in this moment, to take the initiative and do it.

My eyelids fluttered closed and I leaned forward, brushing my lips over his. He was still at first and his lips were dry and soft…. I was annoyed at his passivity and sucked his bottom lip into my mouth, running my tongue back and forth across it. We kissed slowly, making out almost innocently until he pulled back with another sigh.

“We could be so good together,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against mine.

I nodded silently. “I just… I don’t know, Will. I’m not ready to be gay.”

I felt him wince against me.

“Wait—that came out wrong,” I started, but Will cut me off with a quick kiss.

“No, I understand. You’ve been in heterosexual relationships all your life, so this is a much bigger step.”

“Have you always been gay?” I asked, realizing that I’d never asked this question before.

Will hummed into my hair. “I suppose so,” he said. “I would never completely dismiss the possibility of a relationship with a woman, but it would be the exception rather than the rule.

“I suppose I see sexuality in shades of gray, rather than black or white,” he continued. “Everyone has the ability to be attracted to both genders, you just end up choosing whichever fits you best.”

“I get that.”

“Jesse?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”