Geography of Murder (11 page)

"You don't do it at all."

"Yes, sir. Boss, sir." I could live with a dominant man, but this was carrying things too far, wasn't it?

"Don't give me lip, boy."

I stared down at my feet, sure he was going to toss me out of his truck in the middle of God-forsaken hick country.

Good luck trying to get home from here. I frantically assessed my situation. What would I do if he did put me out? Was there someone I could call? Would Phil come get me ... ?

Spider threw the truck into gear and roared out of the lot.

Five minutes later we pulled into his cul-de-sac and he got 103

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out of his truck. I followed, at a loss as to what else I could do. Without a word he let us into his dark house.

He took his jacket off and slid his shoulder harness off. He carried it into the living room, coming back minutes later, tieless. He still wore his boots and made no attempt to remove them.

Instead he led me into the living room where he had turned on a single light. Turning, he put both hands on my shoulders and made me look at him.

"Do you know why I'm angry?"

"Because you don't think I should be doing drugs."

He shook me. "You don't do anything unless I give you permission to do it. You need to learn that lesson here, now."

"I don't understand. What—?"

"No talking either."

I fell into an uneasy silence.

"You will pay for that mistake." He wasn't mad as far as I could tell. There was something else in his voice, a suppressed excitement that vibrated through his big body.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded. He pulled me after him into his bedroom. This time he turned on the light right away.

"Strip," he said without turning.

I hesitated, trying to figure out what he was doing.

"I won't tell you again." This time his voice was soft.

I stripped. When I went to toss my shirt on the floor he barked, "Clean up after yourself. You will not make a mess of my bedroom."

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It was weird. I should have told him to fuck himself.

Should have stomped away from the autocratic asshole.

Instead I obeyed, neatly folding my clothes up and putting them on top of his dresser. When I stood in front of him naked and as vulnerable as I ever had been, I was astonished to find I had a massive hard-on. My cock jutted out from my groin, already wet with precum. He glanced down at me then ignored it and me altogether.

He crossed over to the wall that held the bondage equipment I had glimpsed my first night here. While I watched, he sorted through things leisurely, finally selecting a pair of leather cuffs, a matching black hood and something metallic that slithered down his fist as he returned to where I stood waiting. My body tightened as he approached.

"Are you ready to pay?"

"Alex—"

"You will call me Sir until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"

"Yes," I whispered. Then hastily added, "Sir."

He slipped the hood over my head, securing it with straps.

The rich smell of leather filled my senses. He dragged my hands behind my back and cuffed me in a move too reminiscent of the day we had met, and he handcuffed me.

My erection grew thicker, my cock was so hard it hurt. I groaned behind the hood.

"Hold still," he ordered.

Then he was gone. I heard the whisper of his passage.

When he returned I heard an oddly familiar buzz. Seconds later my skin was caressed by an electric razor. He was 105

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thorough. I don't think he missed an inch of my body, he even swept the razor between the cheeks of my ass. The only thing he didn't touch was the hair on my head.

Then came the oil. It smelled like some kind of exotic fruit and he slicked it over me in broad, gentle sweeps, pausing to slide his fingers between my ass, teasing the opening behind my balls.

When he was done he stepped back. His military boots clunked on the hardwood floor. I could see him in my mind's eye as he had looked when he picked me up at the marina.

Tight blue-jean-clad ass, the impressive bulge between his legs. Broad shoulders encased in crisp linen. The buzz cut head, and piercing gray eyes behind his glasses.

Metal hissed and I started when the cold length of chain passed over my chest. I jumped when the first clamp went on my right nipple. He clamped the second one, sending a jolt of pain straight to my groin. A thin chain hung between them on my newly shaved chest.

The darkness shaped my senses, sharpening them into brilliant bursts of pain and pleasure, with a need that burnt bright and hot. My blindness was liberating. I could feel the air currents every time he moved, every time he breathed, every time he touched me. The rasp of his jeans rubbing together, the flutter of his fingers over my body, whispering promises of unbearable pain and pleasure to come.

"Are you going to be a good boy?"

"Yes." The words were muffled by the hood. "Yes, Sir," I said louder.

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He jerked on the chain attached to the nipple clamps, sending pain lancing down my chest. "I can't hear you."

"Yes, Sir. I'll be good, Sir."

My shoulders ached from the unnatural position they were forced into. When he spun me around I almost lost my balance and pitched forward on my face. He steadied me and barked, "Stand still."

I froze. His hands on my hips, he crouched behind me and parted my ass cheeks. When his mouth covered my hole I shouted and locked my leg muscles to keep from toppling forward.

My cock strained toward release, but before I could come he reared up behind me and pressed his denim-clad groin against my ass. I moaned.

"You like drugs?" he murmured into my ear.

"N-no."

"Yes, you do." His arm swung around and his hand swept under my chin. "But that doesn't matter anymore. You will never take them again. Right?"

"W-what? I don't understand—"

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Say my name."

"Alex."

He jerked at the clamp, twisting my nipple. Pain shot through me. "My name."

"Alex Spider. Detective Alexander Spider!"

"That's a good boy," he purred. His mouth closed over the nipple he had so recently twisted, soothing the lingering burn.

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He lavished attention on the other one then he stepped away from me again. His zipper slid down and cool gel-covered fingers probed my anus. It was followed by his latex covered cock. He twisted my clamped nipples again.

My heart jolted in my chest at the same time he rammed up my ass. There was nothing gentle about his assault on me.

He hung on to my shoulders and pounded into me, grunting and muttering obscenities in my ear. Behind the hood I shut my eyes and released myself to the sensation of having him inside me and holding me, enfolding me in his essence.

One of his big hands wrapped around my cock and pumped me. The storm abruptly ended in orgasm and we sagged together. He quickly released my bound hands and I collapsed in his arms. My Oxy-induced daze lingered, my ass and nipples ached. My head buzzed, still fired up. God forgive me, but I wanted more.

He walked me over to the bathroom and with a slap on my sore butt, pushed me toward the shower. "Get cleaned up.

Get dressed. You can cook supper."

"I can?" I was totally enervated and couldn't even think about food.

"Yes, you can. You're going to learn how to cook a decent meal, and you're going to serve me supper. If you're especially good, I'll even let you do the dishes."

"Oh, would you," I muttered and stopped in front of the bathroom mirror to see myself. My skin still glistened with the oil he had covered me with and my totally hairless body looked ... odd. He'd even shaved my pubic hair and my cock 108

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stood out against my pale skin where it would normally be nestled in my dark pubes. The sight was oddly arousing.

I stepped away from the mirror and into the shower, where I screwed up the controls and turned on the cold water full blast, giving myself an Arctic blast. Jolted awake I scrambled into the bedroom where I found the clothes I had brought from home laid out on the neatly made bed. My parade pants—that made me smile, I guessed I had made an impression on him the day he busted me—a leather and metal cock ring I eyed dubiously, and the mesh shirt that really made me look like I had a decent body. I always got picked up right away when I wore that to the clubs. No underwear. I struggled to put on the cock ring. I'd only ever worn one once before and let me tell you, they are damned hard to get on when you've got a boner. Every time I thought of what was coming my cock would swell and I couldn't get the thing on. The idea of course was you weren't supposed to lose an erection once you had the cock ring in place. Getting it on was another issue. Finally I thought of every undesirable thing I could. Baseball. Cold showers. Women. Suzie. I eventually got it on, then struggled into the skin tight parade pants. All this for a man I barely knew.

Somehow the gesture of choosing my clothes didn't infuriate me. I whistled while I pulled the black mesh shirt on.

Sliding my fingers through my mess of damp hair. Smoothing the material over my hips, I followed Spider into the kitchen.

I found him fishing out pots and pans and mixing bowls from various cupboards.

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He indicated a sink filled with potatoes, carrots and broccoli. "Start peeling the potatoes. Cut them into small chunks, they'll cook faster. Ditto with the broccoli. Only with that you trim off the stem."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take a shower." Spider patted me on my still tingling butt. "When I come back I'll get the grill going for the chicken."

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All I can say is: incredible. The kid is incredible. I
never expected our play to be so fulfilling. The drugs
had surprised me, though they shouldn't have. I'd seen
his jacket. But it was the perfect way to get the upper
hand so fast.

He was so eager to let me be in charge it was all I could do to draw it out as long as I did, when all I wanted to do was fuck him until we were both squealing. It was better this way.

He was biddable now. He might not know it yet, but he was mine.

I thought of the little surprise I had for dessert. It promised to bring the evening to a wonderful close.

He was a passable cook. Under my tutelage he would learn to be so much more. I let him have a single bottle of beer during the meal. I didn't want him getting any more fuzzy-headed than he was. I toasted him over the chicken he had grilled to perfection, with my help and watched his eyelids droop in exhaustion. He gamely hung on, every so often giving a little jerk as he almost slid into a doze. Can't have that. I left the room and when I came back he pulled himself up in his chair and shook himself like a dog.

"Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean—"

"Here, this will help." He set a bottle of thick, greenish liqueur on the table, along with two small glasses. "It's called absinthe. It's illegal to sell and make, but not to own. This is the only drug you can take with me."

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I nuzzled his neck, loving the smell of his freshly washed skin. He shivered under my touch. Wonderful. I bit his throat, then soothed the bitten area with soft kisses. He hissed and twitched under my attention.

He reached for the shot glass then stopped and met my eyes. "How do you take it? Straight shot?"

I produced a spoon and a sugar cube. Jason's gaze never left my hand while I poured cold water over the ice cube and slowly mixed it into the absinthe, turning it a milky white. I stirred the rest of the sugar into the bitter drink and handed it to him. He upended the shot glass and downed it with practiced ease. He sighed when the first shot hit his throat.

He turned glittering eyes toward me and silently asked if I wanted any. I shook my head and he poured another shot.

This time he performed the louching exercise as I'd shown him. He sank back, resting his head on the back of my dining room chair, eyes closed.

"Oh man, that's bitter shit."

"They say it has mild hallucinogenic effects. What do you think?"

"Cool."

I kept nuzzling his neck, biting hard enough to leave marks. "That's what you get for being a good boy."

Jason's lethargy was gone. He bounced to his feet, buzzing, laughing, reminding me of how young he really was.

I watched him for several amused minutes then grabbed his arm. He was giving me a contact high. "Whoa, there, boy."

He stood in front of me, vibrating. "Come on," he said.

"Let's go dancing."

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"Dancing? This is Goleta. Two guys show up anywhere here and the only dancing you'll be doing is on the end of someone's boot."

"Come on, you're a big guy. You've got a gun. Who's gonna bother you?' He stroked the front of my shirt, playing with the buttons, eyes glazed as he contemplated some inner wonder.

I smiled and tipped his head up to meet my gaze. "We're going to have to make our own entertainment."

"Okay." He dropped to his knees and jerked open the fly of my jeans. He looked up at me slyly. "You mean like this."

He pulled out my already half-hard dick and swallowed it to the root. An electrical charge slammed through me. I steadied myself on his shoulders and watched him suck me.

He had a talented mouth and had me on the brink in seconds.

He had the presence of mind to pull off me before I came, shooting thick streamers of come over my stomach, and his head and shoulders. I shuddered and released him.