At His Throat, a Promise (55 page)

“I can"t,” Harte whispered, his fingers touching Ellis as if the soft contact would break the hold.

“Beg,” Ellis said, his heart racing. Somewhere inside himself, however, he knew this was what William wanted.

“Please, Ellis. Please let me take it off like Master said.” Harte sounded distressed, and Ellis pressed his hand down harder for a second before lifting it.

Harte tore the shift off, panting. He was looking between Ellis and William as if they"d planned some elaborate torture for him.

“Good boy,” Ellis said. The words sent a thrill through him, a sense of power so strong it was almost overwhelming. He could do
anything
… but that wasn"t really true. Still, he
felt
like he could.

Like Harte was
his
, an extension of his body, a receptacle for his pleasure. He didn"t want to hurt him or use him; more than anything, Ellis wanted to make Harte feel good, lose control.

Harte gasped at his words, and Ellis braced for admonition from William. He worried about forgetting his place, but no castigation came. He"d been right—William wanted him to do this.

“Open your legs, Harte,” William said. His hand was resting over the crotch of his trousers, but he made no attempt to pleasure himself.

Ellis looked down at the sight before him. There was something so innocent and yet so depraved about an angel like 475

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

Harte positioned like a whore. It made Ellis want to fuck him blind—he hoped William had something like that in mind.

Running his hands up Harte"s calves and thighs, his thumbs just brushing his balls before moving away, Ellis waited for more instruction. As much as he was enjoying taking control of Harte like this, a part of him wanted William to tell
him
what to do. He was torn between the two desires, and it made him uncertain.

William cured him of that when he pressed the jar of lubricant into Ellis"s hand, saying, “Two fingers to start with.” Harte whimpered and tossed his head, but his face held no fear.

Ellis watched, entranced, as Harte"s arms lifted over his own head, his knees drew up to expose himself, and his back arched.

Everything about him would have been calculated on any other slave. It was too sexy, too perfect, too practised—except it wasn"t.

Harte just did what felt good and right, not what he thought they wanted to see.

Luckily for Ellis and William, what felt good to Harte was exactly what they wanted to see.

Forcing himself to stop staring at Harte was almost painful. He slicked two of his fingers more liberally than he normally would have done, knowing that Harte was going to be sore the next morning.

After steadying himself, Ellis found and circled Harte"s hole with his wet fingers. The tiny entrance twitched enticingly and Harte groaned, hips rolling and hands clenching the sheets over his head.

He waited until he saw Harte"s lungs fill with air before he plunged his fingers inside. The tight ring protested and Harte jerked and gasped but Ellis pushed until his third knuckles pressed against the rim of Harte"s hole.

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AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

“Shit, oh, fuck,” Harte cursed, obviously straining to stay still.

His cheeks and chest were flushed but his cock was hard, a string of pre-come bridging it and his belly.

Ellis bent over and bit Harte"s knee, needing to taste him. His eyes met William"s even as his fingers began to thrust. Lust danced over William"s features, dark and demanding.

Taking care to graze over Harte"s prostate, Ellis divided his attention between his master and the boy at his mercy. He felt powerful and he
liked
that feeling. He wondered if this was the way it was for William—or if this was how Jude, or Harte"s first master, or Develyn felt with someone bowing to them.

“Stop. Harte, undress Ellis and suck his cock.” Ellis drew his fingers away, staring in fascination at the way Harte"s body closed up almost immediately. He wanted inside there. He supposed that was the difference between William and Ellis at that moment—Ellis"s power was borrowed. William"s was ingrained.

Harte struggled to his knees and began to tug up Ellis"s shift, but Ellis grabbed his wrists, waiting for Harte to look at him. When he did, Ellis knew what he wanted was written across his own features. Harte drew a shaky breath—this was something so different, so new, and yet it felt natural. He only wished William was involved in more than a directorial fashion. As much as he was enjoying having Harte to himself, he still wanted to belong to William. He suspected he always would.

“Please,” Harte begged, just as Ellis wanted. “Please, may I undress you?”

“Call him Sir,” William instructed in a voice so low they almost didn"t hear.

“Master,” Ellis began, ready to protest—it wasn"t right.

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Ranking between slaves bred dissension and mutiny. But William was looking at Harte, whose eyes were wide and lips parted, the picture of desire and
want
.

“Sir,” he whispered, as though testing. “Sir, please allow me to undress you.”

“Fuck… ” Ellis let go of Harte"s wrists and was immediately divested of his clothing. Hearing Harte say that simple word in his sweet voice changed everything. There was a shifting of power here; something that had been concrete was now quicksand.

Without teasing, Harte took Ellis"s cock so deeply in his mouth that he gagged. Instead of pulling away, he just pressed deeper, his hands running over Ellis"s body, touching with a reverence that only William had ever given him.

Instead of the easy, teasing blow job Harte would usually have given Ellis, full of flicks of tongue and winks of eyes, Harte was wholly devoted to the act, sucking him like he
was
Harte"s master.

The different sensation, the headiness of being called
Sir
, everything about the moment was rushing him toward climax, and he tossed a panicked glance at William because he wanted—
oh,
fuck
—he wanted to come but he
didn’t
want to because he had to fuck Harte, just had to.

“That"s enough.”

Harte seemed disappointed to pull away, but Ellis was relieved.

He wanted to come inside Harte, wanted to fuck him exactly how William wanted him to.

Just as if he"d read Ellis"s mind, William said, “Fuck him, Ellis.”

The instruction was so unspecific that Ellis knew he was being given free rein. What would William want him to do? Make Harte scream. Make him cry a little. Make him come, certainly.

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AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

“On your hands and knees,” Ellis said hoarsely, coating his cock with lube as he watched Harte get into position.

“Oh, Sir,” Harte moaned as Ellis sank two fingers deep inside him, teasing his prostate with brushes and grazes. Ellis took the moment to watch William, whose eyes were trained on where Ellis"s fingers impaled Harte.

William met Ellis"s eyes and he smiled—it was a warm smile, almost out of place amidst the debauchery taking place. Still, it made Ellis relax a little. He might be doing what he wanted, but only because it was what William wanted. He was still a servant, still a slave, still William"s.

Ellis pulled his fingers out and placed his hand between Harte"s shoulder blades, pressing down until his chest touched the bed. He wiped his fingers on Harte"s back, an action that drew a pained groan from Harte and an approving one from William. Strange how he could be so pleasing to so many people.

The impossible arch of Harte"s back drew his attention, and his eyes followed it. He wanted to be inside Harte, but he also wanted this to last as long as possible. After a few moments, he could stand it no longer. He lined his cock up to Harte"s stretched hole and slammed inside, hips crashing against Harte"s cheeks.

Harte screamed into the bed, his voice muffled—but he didn"t try to get away. The heat and tightness of him was almost enough to set Ellis off at that moment, but he had to finish this for William.

He grabbed Harte"s hips and pulled out, almost the entire way, before plunging back in.

Harte"s groans drove him on; the fucking was brutal and all about Ellis, though he knew Harte got pleasure from the treatment.

He ignored Harte"s body—at any other time, he would have made sure that Harte"s pleasure was as great as his own. Not this time.

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He"d seen Harte come just from getting fucked by William. Ellis wanted that. He wanted Harte to want him so badly he came untouched. He wanted to make Harte want him without even trying.
That
was power.

The sound of a zipper falling made Ellis swell with pride.

William obviously found them desirable enough to touch himself at the mere sight. Even though he could have had either of them, he wanted to watch, instead.

Harte. Hands grabbing the sheets and face pressed against the bed, eyes closed and lashes glistening, mouth open. He had to steady himself against the force of Ellis"s thrusts and would reposition himself after Ellis had worked his body forward.

William. Hand working his stiff shaft, eyes seeing everything, right down to what Ellis was feeling inside, he was sure. He was the one giving Ellis the power, lending it to him, encouraging him.

Ellis was his conduit.

“Harder,” William said.

Ellis chuckled when Harte whimpered. He felt almost cruel. He didn"t want to hurt Harte, but he wanted Harte to hurt. He couldn"t explain his feelings to himself, didn"t even want to try. He only followed the order. Harder. His fingers were merciless on Harte"s hips, and yanked the lithe body back against his own at the same time as he pounded forward, using Harte for his own pleasure and giving nothing but the rawest fucking in return.

Emboldened, Ellis leaned forward, grabbing Harte"s hair and twisting his head so Harte"s face was turned to the side. He pushed Harte"s head into the bed and used his hair as leverage. He wanted—fuck,
needed
—to come, but he wouldn"t. His body was too wired to come only when William said, and his job wasn"t done yet.

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AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

When Harte screamed, Ellis almost stopped, his instincts telling him not to hurt this smaller, gentler creature. But the tightening and convulsing of Harte"s hole around his cock told him to keep going. Harte was coming—untouched, as Ellis had wanted so badly—and that would make William so proud of him. Maybe he
would
be a good master one day.

“Ellis, stop and come here.”

Coming back to himself was almost painful—sweat dampened his skin and his cock was red and sore as he pulled out. Harte slumped onto the bed, looking unconscious. He didn"t move, but he gave a soft sigh when Ellis touched his head lightly before kissing it.

“Thank you,” Ellis whispered, feeling like he"d been given the most amazing gift.

Though Harte"s eyes were closed, he smiled.

Ellis crawled up the bed to kneel beside William, a little nervous. He didn"t think he"d done anything wrong, but William"s face was unreadable.

“You did very well. How do you feel?”

“Good,” Ellis said honestly. “Tired, but really good.” William nodded. “Lie on your side, facing Harte.” Doing so, Ellis blushed a little when he saw Harte was watching him. Still panting, Harte seemed to see right through him.

He smiled again, and it was tired but satisfied.

“Doesn"t he look beautiful?” William prompted, getting into position behind Ellis.

Ellis drew his top leg up to his chest automatically, wanting William inside him and hoping that was what was about to happen.

“Yes. He always is.”

“And you mastered him, didn"t you?”

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AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

Two fingers speared him and Ellis jerked forward but forced his body to accept them. The stretch was painful, his body wanting to reject it, but he was so aroused that the pain wasn"t far from pleasure. “Yes, Master,” Ellis said with some pride.

“And yet you did not forget your place.” It wasn"t a question.

“No, I hope that I did not.” The fat head of William"s cock pressed against his hole, and Ellis squirmed back against it, trying to convey how badly he wanted it.

“You did very well.” William pushed inside.

Exhaling through the pain, Ellis kept his eyes fixed on Harte, who looked steadily back. “Thank you, Master.” The position did not allow for much movement, but Ellis didn"t need it. His body was taut with need and William"s cock was precise in its thrusts, caressing his prostate enough to make him wild inside.

“And when he called you Sir,” William continued, this time his voice so low that Harte wouldn"t be able to hear. “Did you think you were his master? Did you let yourself believe he was yours?” William"s fingers sought out a peaked nipple and pinched it, distracting Ellis away from the seriousness of the question.

“No, Master. He is yours. I knew that. You acted through me.

Thank you.”

“You"re welcome.”

For a time there was only Ellis"s body accepting William"s cock. The master"s hands were everywhere except on Ellis"s cock, but he had no desire to touch it himself. The pleasure was enough without it. William was restating his claim, making Ellis certain that no matter what, he was still a slave and reminding him that he
liked
it that way. Having power over Harte had been heady and arousing, but being owned was what he wanted all the time.

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AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

“This is where you belong,” William said into Ellis"s ear, nipping it. “This is your place. He might call you Sir but you are not a master. You are a slave—my slave. That is what you"ll always be.”

It was such a pretty lie that Ellis let himself believe it. Where was the harm—it was only for a moment.

“Yes, Master, yours only. Always.”

The words were as sexual as the actions his body was experiencing, and it was something he wanted
so
badly that it was almost a caress, almost a kiss. He tried to keep his eyes open—