He'd found the place where the man worked, the place the man owned now, thanks to Gen's sordid little game and he'd been there twice already, watching the people who walked inside, he'd seen his tormentor and felt the fire of anger burn him. That and something else he refused to acknowledge. He'd even learnt his name.
That evening, he walked inside discreetly and hid behind a heavy curtain for hours, his gun at his side, waiting for the club to close and Chris to be alone, thinking he'd kill him then but when everybody had gone, a woman joined Chris.
They were standing face to face, silent, the girl's slanting eyes locked with Chris' dark, blurry, burning blue gaze, not letting go.
From where he was hiding, Toby saw Chris lift a lazy hand to stroke the woman's high cheekbone, and she turned her head, parted her red glossy lips and bit hard on his thumb, then licked it.
You bitch," Chris growled, and she laughed. She was small and thin, slim waist, narrow hips and tiny round breasts, some wonderful ivory statue of a woman and she looked young and vulnerable, maybe not much more that 16 but probably much older. Chris left hand slapped her face casually and she laughed again, teasing, taunting, moving sensuously against him.
"I'm not in that anymore, Baby," she said, "but if you still want me…"
A swift move of Chris' fingers and the black silk dress slipped to the floor, useless: she was naked, not even sexy underwear, nothing, her amber skin glistening under the lights; she gasped with desire when Chris' hands closed around her waist and lifted her like some kind of weightless precious doll. She shifted in his embrace, trying to come closer.
"OK, OK, just let me get rid of my pants," he growled in a tight voice, putting her back down with the same care he'd shown before.
Chris took his time to push down his jeans; sat back on the table behind him and lifted her again until she was straddling him, her head thrown back, her long black hair brushing along her ass, tickling his knees and thighs, thick and black and undulating, lights shining on it.
"Jesus fucking Christ! We're supposed to be divorced, Angie."
"I know you do it with those cunts and you divorced them as well," she said in a husky voice as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucked it, rubbing his cock against her belly.
"Come on, Chris, you know what I want; fuck me. Hard."
He growled, maybe he didn't want to rush it, but the girl lifted herself up and impaled her body on Chris' warm hardness, spasms of pleasure running across her limbs as she did it, hissing, mewing, her fingers clutched into the muscled arms holding her, and when Chris was fully buried inside her she rested her head on his shoulder. He shivered, sighed, his fingers circling her waist more tightly.
"God, it's so good, I like it like that."
" What do you mean? Rough like this?" Chris asked in a dreamy voice, moving his hips upwards, once, twice and she yelled. "Oh yeah, Chris, please, please, please."
In the dark, Toby shivered at the man's voice.
She wanted to kiss him but he turned his head to avoid her lips and she moaned.
He'd been kissed a lot, Toby recalled that much too well, why didn't Chris kiss her, what did that mean?
Chris buried his face in the girl's neck, biting the soft skin softly.
"Don't mark me, please," she whispered, her voice shaking.
"I like the way you smell," he said, "You smell like sex," moving again until she began to moan louder, his paws on her ass guiding her, his lips on her skin, everywhere he could reach.
She had tightly muscled legs and thighs, long and slim, her left ankle circled with a thin golden bracelet; he saw a tattoo on her left hip, a cat about to pounce, and another one on her shoulder, a rose maybe, she probably was a dancer, maybe a stripper, she seemed to enjoy putting on a show, she was attractive and hot and now Chris was snaking a hand up her spine, clenching his fingers in her hair, forcing her head back and suddenly he stood up, lifting her, holding her, making her cry, shiver and beg.
"Please, please, please…"
She locked her legs behind his back and Chris was fucking her hard and fast under the caressing lights of the club, in the heat of the empty room which still smelled of sweat and alcohol and cigarettes, fucking her like crazy, his body shining with sweat, and she was yelling, shrill screams filling the room; she was sticking her manicured claws into his shoulders, scratching the skin all along the man's tattoo, and the watcher thought he could see blood, droplets running along Chris' skin, her greedy mouth drinking them, her tongue licking them and -oh Christ he couldn’t take it anymore and he lowered the gun, leaned back against the wall, panting, hidden in the depths of darkness, so near and yet so far, closing his eyes, letting the little sounds of pleasure she was making stroke him, and when Chris came, his roar of triumph echoed through his whole body and he bit his own lips, hard, drawing blood.
Toby thought he could have come too.
As they recovered, panting against each other, Chris turned his head, his eyes peering into the darkness, as if he could see him, his swollen lips curving into a sensuous and knowing smile, which seemed to say, "Your turn will come, I'll get you."
And all Toby could do then was let go of the gun and run away into the wet dawn of March.
After that he lived in a world of numbness and for days he couldn't force the pictures of Chris fucking his bitch out of his mind. Jerked off thinking about it, hit the wall in anger for being so weak.
A week later, had a hard day, worked late, pleaded two cases and lost one –his father had thrown him cheering glances, but he couldn't win, the case just stank, he walked back to his hotel room, up the stairs, opened the door, switched on the light and stood there, frozen… Chris Keller, was sitting in the leather armchair in front of the door, unshaven, dressed in jeans and a dark shirt, legs crossed, looking cool. And fucking hot.
"What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"Doesn't matter how, I wanted to return something to you."
"Yeah? And what would that be? My life?"
Chris nearly smiled, dropped something to the floor at Toby's feet. "Your gun."
Toby was still holding his suitcase and his coat, his hair wet from the rain that had kept falling all day long.
"Looks like we have to talk."
"Talk? Fuck you," Toby said, throwing down his coat, his suitcase and his jacket.
"Later. Look, the gun, you didn't use it. Was it you in the club the other day, watching us? I guess it was. You saw us, why didn't you kill us?"
Toby didn't answer.
"Why? Were you afraid?"
Disdainful look that earned Toby an amused smile.
"Come on, tell me why?"
"I wasn't sure I could kill you without hurting the girl," Toby said.
"So what? Didn't you guess? She was the one who took the pictures."
Toby started, questions rushing to his mind -how long had she watched? Where had she been hiding? Had she been paid for it, too, every question fuelling his anger.
"What do you want? Is it about humiliating me some more, does that turn you on too? Fucking up my life, taking my kids away from me… Wasn't that enough?"
Chris kept silent for a while, turning his attention to the cold night of March pouring down outside.
"Tell me, Toby, if you cared about them so much, what were you doing in that bar?"
Toby glanced at the gun at his feet, toying with the idea of picking it up and firing. Not here, not now. Later.
"You're not expecting an answer, are you?"
Arrogant, but inside, shattered and Chris knew it, they both knew it.
"No. Fuck no, I don't give a damn about that; I needed the money, I wanted that club, so I did what I had to"
"You got what you wanted, now get the fuck away from here before I shoot you down," Toby hissed, his eyes pale and cold, his fists clenched, his voice tense with rage.
Ah, fuck, losing it was a mistake, Chris' eyes were burning with hunger now, his lips curving in an evil smile.
"C'mon, Toby, shoot me, I'm all yours," Chris said, stretching out his arms, throwing his head back, light playing on his hard features, and as Toby didn't move, he rose and walked up to him.
"Or is it something else you want?"
Toby's heart sank at the warmth of Chris' fingers along his jaw and he leaned into the touch like some animal yearning for caresses, allowing a strong hand to rest on the nape of his neck.
/Get a grip, you pathetic bitch, he's only playing, don't you know who he is? /
Shaken, he stepped back and Chris let go of him with a low growl, frustrated at the loss. Images crossed Toby's mind as he tried to escape Chris' gaze, Chris' heat, Chris' burning desire. A demon, that's what he was, he'd taken Gen's money to destroy him, destroy his life, play his evil game … When the wall stopped him from retreating any further he saw Chris rise and walk up to him, blocking his way to the door.
The seductive voice curled up around him.
"I can't take back what I've done, but I can make things better, let me do that for you."
Warm fingers like loose handcuffs around his wrists letting him feel the heat, neutral gaze which seemed to say, "You're safe."
But he was not, he knew that.
"I've been thinking about you every night and day, I've been dreaming of fucking you again on this goddamn roof, my bed, your bed, the floor… Anywhere. Nobody ever made me feel like that."
The voice was warm velvet pleading in Toby's ear, fingers dancing up his arms, sending shivers to his spine, arousing him, scaring him.
/ No! /
He shook himself free and punched the man's face as hard as he could, as long as he could, until Chris had to step back, swaying.
"You bastard… How dare you?" Toby's voice was shaking.
Chris remained still for a long time, trying to catch his breath, steady himself. When he raised his head, blood was running down his chin, his eyes were cold.
He's going to kill me, Toby thought, watching him, dark eyes, tight mouth, his breath controlled and slow, then smiling that wicked smile Toby had seen in the apartment, in the club, in his dreams.
"See? It's easy to like it," Chris said, much too near.
"I didn't like it. Just don't touch me, just go."
"No. Are you going to kick my ass out?"
Toby closed his eyes and shrugged. When the hands came back to his wrists, snaked up to his shoulders, he hit Chris again without thinking and Chris let go. They did it again, and again, this strange dance, until their mouths went dry, until they were unable to take their eyes away from each other's face, until they were both trembling. When Chris' fingers seized his shoulders one more time, he didn't fight, grabbed Chris' shirt, pushed him towards the door with all his strength, Chris barely resisting, maybe surprised, then seizing Toby's forearms and forcing him back against the wall, pinning him there, stealing his breath in a merciless embrace.
"Ya wanna fight me, Toby?" he asked in his ear," that's good, I love to fight."
They remained still for a while, Chris pressing against him, his lips so near, his breath so hot that Toby kissed him, a fierce biting kiss that drew blood and was kissed the same way, unable to hold back any longer.
They ended on the bed, still dressed, kissing, groping, biting, breathless, abandoned to each other's desire, until Chris was kneeling above Toby, straddling him.
"What if I'm not the man you think I am," he said, panting, "You came after me with a gun, planning to kill me, you hit me… What do you think I'm gonna do to you?"
Toby closed his eyes for a second, trying to focus again, fighting a creeping fear, pinned to the bed by Chris' warm body.
"You are the man I think you are."
A silence, too long, too deep, filled with doubt, but Toby didn't look away.
"Risky of you; it would be easy to kill you, Toby. That's why I drove you home in the middle of the night, last time, I was afraid of how far you could take me, how far I could go, much too far, I wanted so fucking much more, wanted to see blood, maybe"
His eyes were shining, precious and cold sapphires, his frame looming over Toby, his hands flat near Toby's neck and his voice soft.
"I don't like to be threatened with a gun, Toby, I don't like to be hurt."
"I don't like to be set up."
He expected a blow but nothing came, only this enigmatic look and, "Don't you fuck with me again."
"Don't you fucking mess with my life again."
They ate in a restaurant near the hotel, Chris paid cash, and around midnight they came back to the room on the 19th floor.
"Do you like this place?" Toby asked, slightly dazed, pointing to the comfortable bedroom, the huge marble bathroom, the terrace overlooking the town.
Chris crouched near the bed, testing the resistance of a tie, pulling hard on both ends, satisfied by the sound it made; retrieved a smooth hair band in his pocket; studied a belt and finally discarded it with a frown, choosing a large padded shoulder strap instead, unbuckling it from Toby's bag, getting rid of any potentially dangerous part before coming back to the bed and there was something in his behaviour, something focused that allowed Toby to lie there and let go of a bad day, forget the sadness and the emptiness of his life, give himself up to these skilful hands.
"Did you fall asleep?"
"No. I was watching you."
Chris nodded, put down the ties and the strap and gestured to Toby. "Strip."
And while Toby was doing it, he said, "This is not a game, this is for real, this part of your life you're giving up is mine, every second we spend together and maybe more; you don't come to get a break from it, you don't refuse me…"
"Don't talk, don't struggle, no safe word."
Chris shook his head, frowned.
"What is it in 'shut up' that you don't understand?"
Toby tensed, shook his head. He wasn't naked yet when Chris pounced and the first blow was a burning flame curling up around him but when he arched under the pain, Chris' mouth swallowed his scream, drinking it, savoring it, and Toby was lost.
"OK," Chris said, "now let's see just how far you trust me."
Next morning Chris didn't leave before the sun had invaded the room and he arrived at the club past noon, Bonnie waiting for him, bent over the accounts book.
"Hi!" she said, raising her eyes, "So, how's the boy?"
Chris stopped at the door, took a look at her. Big beautiful woman, I wanna fuck you. But instead he asked, "Which boy?"
"Aw, come on, I saw Angie yesterday, the cunt was looking for you, she told me you'd found someone."
"Don't call her that."
"What do you call it, a woman who strips in bars and leaves with a different man every night?"
"I call that a woman who's trying to make money."
Bonnie frowned, pushed her glasses back up her nose and sighed. "Yes, of course. You've always been fond of her."
"You've always been jealous."
She crossed her legs, closed the big black book.
"OK, what about the boy?"
"He's a man, not a boy."
"Come on, Chris! What does he like?"
Chris sat on the chair in front of her and gave her a sweet smile.
"I love your look, nice suit," he said, "and for the man, he likes to be beaten down, hates to be tied. He likes to go too far. And he's got three kids, his wife divorced him last month."
She watched him. "You fell into your own trap, didn't you? What does he look like?"
What does he look like? Bonnie would've liked him. Like that, sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, legs crossed, his hair too long, his eyes dreamy, his skin slightly golden in the sunrays that poured inside the room through the huge window, he looked just wonderful. Dressed in Chris' jeans, Chris' shirt, barefoot, he looked younger and free, like a golden god in an orgy of light. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, not even a sigh for more than two hours and Chris thought he should end the ordeal, Toby was probably numb, hungry and thirsty as hell and maybe tired too.
"You can move now, but don't talk," he finally said, "come here, come to me."
Toby stumbled to the bed and crashed there, next to Chris crawling to come further.
"Fuck me," he said, "I've been good, I deserve it."
Fingers squeezing his neck, hard.
"I'm the one who decides if you've been good enough. And no, you don't deserve it, not yet."
Toby growled, Chris stubbly jaw scratching his shoulder, sending shivers everywhere. "It was a comfortable position, you weren't even tied up, you'll have to do better than that."
Later they were walking through the park near the hotel, breathing deep in the mild air of a late spring afternoon, side by side, Toby still dressed in Chris' clothes. They bought pizzas and sat on a bench to eat.
"It's been 1 month, Toby. We have to take this… thing between us up to another level."
"Another level? What do you mean?"
"Find some place for you, a place to live, not just a hotel, a place where your kids can come and spend the night. A place where I can come and spend the night."
"You can come everywhere."
"Very funny. Move, find a house, I'm fed up with that place, tired of being so fucking careful, tired of people watching me, talking about me."
Toby remained silent for a while. "I don't want that," he said, "I don't want an established relationship, the routine, I'm not interested, I'll get bored."
Blunt fingers on his chin, forcing him to raise his head, hurting.
"I don't care about what you want. I want that and you're going to do exactly as you're told."
"Yeah, keep dreaming. Where is this coming from? You want to marry me, now? To me it's just fucking."
The pizza boxes landed into the can and Chris grabbed Toby's arm, forcing him to get up and follow.
"You son of a bitch. Come on, we're going to my place," he growled, "We'll take your car and I'll drive."
An hour later he was naked and tied up to the bed in Chris' apartment.
"So that's not enough, you want more, don't you? I'm gonna give you more."
Toby raised his eyes to watch him, frightened. Chris piercing blue eyes, his voice too soft, his fingers too blunt and the knots tying him to the foot of the bed too tight hurt, but he kept his mouth shut because suddenly he wasn't so sure about *who* he was dealing with.
Slapped in the face, exactly like the first time he'd been there, again, harder, his head pulled back when Chris' fingers clenched in his hair.
"I could call some friends, tell them that you're here, looking for fun… What do they call that, tell me? Is gang rape the right term? Would that be enough for you?"
"Shut the fuck up."
Biting down on his lips, hard, cutting the skin, feeling blood running down his chin. Crouched in front of him, Chris kept his eyes on him, checked the knots of the rope, on his wrists, around his ankles, turned away, came back, holding something and Toby's heart stopped.
He kept his mouth shut, trembling, fighting against his bounds, trying to get free, under Chris' cold gaze, until the rope was cutting into his skin, until he got too tired too fight.
Fingers on his jaws forced his mouth open, the ball gag was fastened.
"Now listen, you don't come to hurt yourself, never again. You'll stay like that as long as I think you can take it. The more you fight, the more painful it will be, the longer it will last. Do I make myself clear?"
Twice, about to break down, Toby threw his head back against the foot of the bed, nearly knocking himself out and the second time, Chris rose, tied him differently, a rope behind his neck forcing him to keep his head bowed.
/I hate you, I'll kill you, shoot you down, slit your throat, you son of a fucking bitch /
Time went by, slowly, seconds, minutes, hours, in the dark room, Toby lost in a surreal world where nothing existed but the pain and the anger and the shame and the sobs shaking him, until even that disappeared and he entered this place –subspace; Chris sprawled in the armchair in front of him, shirtless, his legs crossed, silent, attentive, his stillness matching Toby's.
Hours later, maybe, fingers on his neck, untying him, on his wrists, loosening the knots, on his ankles, freeing his feet and he collapsed on the bed, worn out, heard the door lock, was left alone. Fell asleep and woke up at dawn, managed to rise and stumbled to the couch where Chris was sleeping or pretending to, shifting to give him some room and Toby curled himself up against him, not daring to move.
Tied again later in the morning, wordlessly, fed like an animal or a child, but not daring to protest, too afraid of… what? He couldn't tell, just afraid. Showered, dried, tied up again, gagged again, blindfolded, slow and relentless escalation of restraint until he was mindless, thoughtless, stranded, powerless, defeated, Chris' hands on him, inside him, forcing their way wherever they wanted, his throat dry with silent screams, tears running down his cheeks. But hard, so hard and Chris wrapped a hair band around his cock again.
Then it stopped. All of it. He was lying on his back, limp and breathless, the skin on his wrists torn up, his jaw painful.
"We're going to the club."
Clothes were thrown to him and he dressed without a word, let Chris lead him through the parking lot, to the car, then out and through the empty club into an office where a woman was sitting behind a desk, big beautiful woman in a red dress; she rose and hugged Chris with graceful warmth. Then saw Toby and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Don't make him talk," Chris warned, "he's in training."
"You don't have to answer, Toby, but Hi. Chris talks about you a lot," she said, then turned to Chris, "is he allowed to sit down? On a chair?"
Chris nodded curtly and stopped caring, talking with Bonnie about the club, the money. They drank coffee, Toby was given a cup, but couldn't drink it with his hands tied behind his back, had to let Chris make him drink, noticed that the woman looked away, hated the humiliation, loved it.
"I have to go," she said later, "Chris, you'll close, OK?"
"Hope I'll see you again soon, Toby. Take care."
Her words nearly made him smile.
Her footsteps faded away and Chris spoke.
At that point Toby didn't really care anymore and he obeyed without thinking, entered an empty room, saw rings sealed in the raw concrete wall, a riding crop on a stool –Chris kicked it away, disdainful, and gestured Toby to the rings, undressed him, using leather straps to tie him up again, efficient and focused, gagged him, used a leather cock ring this time and clamps on his nipples, tied them to the cock ring by a chain. Flooded by pain, Toby tried to let go and failed, took a ragged breath, felt panic rise until Chris hands fell on his shoulders, stroking him, keeping him still. Toby remembered something then, how he used to lock Gary in his own arms when his son was still a baby panicked with those mysterious terrors that only small babies experience. The paediatrician had recommended the method, explaining that restraining babies into the warmth of their parents' arms had a soothing effect. Chris was doing the same thing, soothing him, holding him tight to fight the anguish. Being trapped was being safe.
Chris hands held him as long as Toby needed them, then let go and he could breathe again, could see Chris go to a locked closet and retrieve… oh no, no, no, no. His eyes gave his dread away, but Chris did what he had too, inserted the lubed butt plug and rose again, watching, frowning.
/He's never used those things before, why now? When did I fail? /
The room was dark and warm, and after a while Toby lost track of time, reality faded again.
When the strap landed on his shoulder, he stumbled like a wild horse. One blow, then silence again.
/I'm hard. What does that make me? /
Another blow, two, three and then nothing. No discernable pattern to cling to, no bearings, no rhythm. Chris' hands, then the strap again, the unbearable pain and Toby wanted to yell but couldn't.
Afterwards he was set free, curled up on a sofa under a warm blanket, half asleep, a cup of coffee beside him, alone. Later yet, dressed up, pushed inside the car and led to his hotel room, laid out on his bed, naked.
"Please," he begged, "won't you even fuck me?"
"Not today, Toby," the toneless voice said, "and don't even think of jerking off without permission, OK?"
/fuck you, Keller /
He heard the door close and fell asleep.
"Looks a lot like breaking in a young horse."
"Not breaking in. Just training; taming the wild part."
Bonnie shook her head. "I can't understand that, never could, but of course you're good at that. I watched you once, you were the only one to make it look… Cool. With the others, it was just sordid. With you… I don't know, there was definitely something there."
He looked at her, surprised. Bonnie didn't like SM, the club was just meant to earn her some money. Their wedding had failed but she wanted to manage something successful with him, he still meant a lot to her.
"What did you think about Toby?"
"Very sexy, very beautiful eyes, beautiful body -even if he looked like shit, that day."
She could see Chris' smile, lighting up his eyes, his… pride? I don't get it, she thought, the way he works, the way they all work, but Chris was beautiful, charming and nice with her, so incredibly strong when she was weak, and kept loving her, no matter what.
In Toby's desolated and empty life something changed, unexpected happened. Gen's new boyfriend didn't seem too pleased with the idea of being in charge of three children whose constant presence spoiled his intimacy with Gen. As weird as Tobias Beecher seemed to be, he'd always been a good father, he'd made clear that he wished to see his kids more than he actually did and shouldn't they take his request into consideration? Gen protested, ranted, and finally gave in to the suggestion, throwing into Toby's face that he could have the kids two weekends a month and part of the holidays too, as if she was doing him a favor. That's when he began to look for a house.
Two months -Chris didn't call. Two months and Toby was strong enough to stay apart, but then he received the card and the spell was back on him, powerful as a drug.
He left his car at his parents' place, took a bus, walked under the summer rain, still unsure about what he'd do. Stopped in front of the club, came closer, drawn to the place like a moth to a flame and eventually walked inside.
From the threshold, he could see the huge dark room lit up by the smooth golden light of big candelabra; the place was wonderful –austere and cosy, perfect taste, Chris' taste. He leaned against the wall and took a good look at the people gathered there, men, women, all dressed in black, a lot of leather, silver and sapphire jewels, naked skin, chains, high heel shoes. Some had their hands tied behind their back, some were kept on a leash, some were gagged; some men were pathetic, some women lacked charm but in the middle of the crowd, Chris looked… How did he look? Toby got lost for a minute in the contemplation of a tiger prowling among the cats, both dangerous and charming, a blond half-naked woman on his arm.
/I shouldn't have come. /
But he stepped further inside, into the darkness and the music.
The blue eyed man at the second door stopped him.
"This is a private party," he said.
"I know. I received an invitation."
The very blue gaze roamed over him with open disdain, over the worn out blue shirt, the faded jeans and the wet hair, glanced at the card held out to him.
"Are you Tobias Beecher?"
"I don't think so."
"Why don't you call Mr Keller, then? He'll tell you."
The man called Chris' name –a friend, so, not only the boss- and Toby watched him stroll to them, making his way through the crowd, dispensing smiles and kind words to his guests.
"This guy, he pretends you invited him."
"Yeah, I did," he said, "it's OK, Ronnie, let him in."
Taking Toby's arm, pulling him into a corner, hugging him.
"Hi. Glad you came, I thought maybe you'd be spending the weekend with your kids."
"No, they're in California with Gen's parents. I'm sorry about the clothes, but I don't like leather and black and all that stuff, you know, and I wasn't sure I would come in after all."
"Just let me take a look at you."
Chris rested a hand on his shoulder, stroking his neck, feeling the pulse of blood under his fingers, anintoxicating sensation that made his heart beat faster.
"I thought it was over. You didn't call back," Toby said after a while.
"Did I say it was over? You didn't call back either, that's why I invited you tonight. I would've phoned tomorrow anyway."
Chris' fingers curled up around the nape of his guest's neck, pulling him closer and Toby was kissed with unbearable softness, long enough to feel his knees buckle, clutching to Chris' shoulders and kissing him back, a fierce and hurting kiss.
"Looks like it's some kind of emergency?"
Toby laughed, it was good to touch him again, hear him again, lean against someone stronger, stop fighting.
"I don't want to keep you away from your guests."
"Don't worry, it's gonna be a long night."
"No leather, no leash, please? I feel owned enough as it is," Toby said softly and Chris' grip on him tightened, his breath quickened, he was hard, he would've pulled Toby down on the floor and fucked him just to take the edge off his desire, doggy style on the wooden floor –just thinking about it made him mad.
He closed his eyes, fighting for control.
"I'm not crazy about that, leather, leash, but some people here, that turns them on, they need it, half the attraction is in the stuff they use."
"Some of them are pathetic."
"And some of them are my friends so I expect you to be… well-mannered."
Chris' hand ruffling his hair and he was kissed again. He wondered how much he would have to pay for such tenderness, but it didn't matter, he'd take it willingly.
Later, Toby could only remember how he'd been looked at. An alien just arrived from Mars wouldn't have roused so much interest. He was watched and touched and caressed by soft, rough, questing fingers and kissed as well. He was never directly spoken to, and never spoke directly to anyone. Chris did.
"So he's yours? Well you never told us about him and now I can see why, he's pretty hot," a woman said, one of those who trailed a man behind her, keeping him on a leash, gagged, his hands tied, and Chris smiled politely, cold eyes, fingers trapping Toby's wrists behind his back to keep him still.
"You should overcome your aversion for props and use a collar at least, let people know he's owned." Chris placed a hand on Toby's hip.
"No thanks, not my thing."
"Come on, Chris, where's the fun, then? He needs to be taught to be obedient, freaking out is part of the process, that's your job to take him through this."
Toby didn't watch the woman, aware that she was talking him into responding, therefore proving she was right, so he kept silent, Chris' fingers squeezing his wrists.
"I think I know my job pretty well."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them.
"Go get me a drink," Chris said and Toby flew to the bar, grabbed two glasses of Champagne, changed his mind, put one of them down again and walked back to Chris.
When he offered him the glass, Chris just nodded and the woman sighed. Chris drank slowly.
"Aw, OK, I have to admit he's great. But a collar would be fine. What if someone takes a fancy to him?"
"I'll kill that someone," Chris said, and Toby believed him.
It was 4 in the morning when the party ended and Chris asked, "Where do you want to go? My apartment?"
"Yeah. My house isn't quite habitable yet, I'm living at my parents' place."
"What did you tell them?"
"I'd spend the night at a friend's place."
"Very confident of you."
"So you have a house now."
"Isn't it what you wanted?"
Of course he didn't mention he'd bought the house for the kids above all.
The apartment was as empty and plain as Toby remembered it but Chris made coffee, put on some music and Toby felt like he'd come home.
"You make good coffee." /I love you. /
"It's the machine, not me. Take off your fucking clothes." /I love you too. /
Minutes later, Toby was leaning against the wall, naked under Chris skilful hands, his cock trapped between teasing fingers– about to explode, trying to push back against Chris' warmth but kept in place by Chris' other hand.
"Listen to me, Toby… I can let you come now, but I'd like you to wait."
"No, please, no, I can't, just let me…"
Throwing his head back to catch some air.
"Tell me… How many times during the last two months did you disobey me? Jerk off?"
"Jesus, why do you ask, I thought it was over!"
"Just tell me!" Chris' voice, his growl, his fingers letting go of Toby's cock, just hovering over it, unreachable, so close.
"I don't know… Once a day? Maybe more?"
Chris' face, expressionless, and a sigh.
"OK, listen again, if I let you come now, if you can't wait..."
"I can't wait, fuck, who do you think I am?"
He was smacked, once, twice, and growled with frustrated rage.
"If I let you come now, you'll pay me back with thirty licks of the strap on your body."
Chris stepped back, frowning.
"Did you listen to a single word? What did I say?"
Lost without Chris' heat.
"Thirty strokes. Please…"
"Does it mean something to you? Like … a fuckload of pain?"
Toby moaned again, nodded.
"OK, you asked for it!"
Then Chris was down on his knees, a hand on Toby's belly, stilling him, running his lips on Toby's cock, taking it in his mouth while pushing two fingers inside him, feeling his body shiver from head to toes, taking it deeper, sucking it, swirling his tongue around the head, clenching his throat around it and Toby yelled, then came like a hurricane, half-gagging Chris with come until they both sagged on the floor, Toby's body still shaking, his eyes closed.
"Remember the deal?" Chris asked after a short while.
Toby's brave look, "Yeah."
"Come on then," Chris said, "let's do it."
Taking the strap in his hand, pulling Toby up, pushing him against the wall, his palms against the white wallpaper and Chris' eyes narrowed in anticipation and bliss as he raised the strap…
Chris left him some time to recover, Toby trying to breathe, escape the spell, break free then Chris' hands began a thorough exploration of his body before pushing him back on the bed, and entering him with a single thrust that burnt like hell and made him yell.
"Yeah, come on, I like that," Chris roared, and pulled back, leaving Toby breathless and stunned. "But I'll use some lube, I don't wanna tear you up, I don't think this can be part of the game."
Toby watched him coat his cock with a generous amount of suntan lotion.
"When I was a kid," Chris said, "I used beer." The memory made him smile but Toby shivered.
"How old a kid?"
"Turn on your side, I'm gonna be easy on you today, think you already had enough," Chris said, kissing his shoulder, "I don't know, I'd say 13 maybe. Beer's cheap and you can get drunk with what's left."
A swift move, and Toby arched his body to meet the penetration, feel the luscious little electrical shocks that ran from his prostate up his spine, again, and again, strong hands clutching Toby's hips where the strap hadn't landed, Chris moving inside him with slow thrusts, kissing him, his lips, his temples, every welt, every bruise, soothing him with his body, stopping him from moving until they couldn't hold back any longer and came, locked in each other's embrace, Toby's body unable to tell the pleasure from the pain anymore.
In the morning, shower. Toby thought he'd have to wear pants and a shirt when he'd take Gary and Holly to the beach, to hide the welts on his body from the kids' prying eyes, and he couldn't bring himself to feel any shame. Later they had take out food; Chris drew Toby to the bed, naked, his wrists bound and fed him.
"Hope you don't mind the routine too much," Chris said, a mocking smile curving his lips.
"You're a rancorous son of a bitch, you know that?"
Chris looked at him through half-closed eyelids, enjoying Toby's gasp, Toby's anticipation for more pain.
"You know the joke, don't you? The masochist says 'hurt me' and the sadist says 'no!'"
They parted at night and Chris held Toby back as he was about to walk away.
"I want to be with you all the time. I want to live with you."
"Look, I'm not sure it's a good idea."
The hand stroking his hair tightened, pulled his head back.
"You want to be fucked senseless?" Chris said, "I'll do that."
Toby closed his eyes, giving in into the fierce embrace, shivering at the low growl.
"You wanna be beaten down, tied up and owned, I love the idea."
Fuck, he was too strong, Toby needed him to much and he nodded, rewarded by a hard bite under his ear.
"The house has four bedrooms, I thought I'd use one of them as my office."
"I have a better idea," Chris said, "a much better idea. Just let me take care of it."
"And what about the kids?"
"I'll leave when they come. Don't worry, I don't wanna ruin your life again."
Toby believed him and that was the day he got rid of the gun.
go to chapter 3 / back home