Gayday! Gayday! - Gay 11 (4 page)

Screw me? Command me? Do whatever you want with me? For the love of masochism, just stop buggering about and use the crop properly!?

None of the words were what he truly wanted to say to the other man. None of them left his lips.

The crop came down again, harder. But it was still so precise, so controlled, it was hard to think of it as anything other than a tease, a test. Slade was toying with his new sub, and he was obviously enjoying it.

Rip’s teeth bit down even harder on his bottom lip. Slade was enjoying himself…and Rip had never been more glad that he’d managed to keep any request back in his life.

His cock had been straining against the tight little pair of shorts for what felt like an eternity. Somehow the skimpy little garment managed to shrink another size as the realisation sank in properly.

Slade might have come there because his friend had phoned up and asked him for a favour. He might have spanked him in Black’s because he wasn’t willing to act like a poor excuse for a dominant in front of Hewett. But they were all alone now. Slade hadn’t had to decide to stay there once he’d bailed him out.

His friend was enjoying himself. His master was enjoying himself. Rip had no doubt that if he ever managed to open his eyes, his wouldn’t be the only clothing straining to contain an erection. But, as desperate as he was to see the other man, he kept his eyes closed, just in case opening them might somehow spoil the spell, might somehow make the whole thing too gay for his friend.

When everything stopped as suddenly as it started, it might have been logical for Rip to assume that the other man hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth, but logic didn’t come easily to him right then. He strained to hear evidence of the other man’s presence, desperate for the crop to fall again, for an order to be issued, for anything that told him his master was still there.

Finally unable to withstand another moment of silent uncertainty, he blinked his eyes open. The room was viciously bright after the darkness behind his lids. It took him a lifetime to focus on his surroundings well enough to see Slade lounging in the arm chair directly before him.

He still had the crop in hand. As he studied Rip, Slade tapped the tip against the knuckles of his other hand, apparently deep in thought.

“Kneel.”

Rip lowered himself slowly to the floor.

Slade’s eyes ran over his body, taking in every detail. Rip remained forward on his knees, waiting for the other man to tell him how he might be allowed to try to please his master next.

Somewhere in the world that probably still existed outside the curtained off area, someone opened a door. A draft crept past the heavy material and caressed Rip’s skin. A shiver ran through him as every point of heat the crop had left under his skin purred its pleasure.

A glance up and Rip met his friend’s eyes. The version of Slade that existed in everyday reality was mesmerising enough. In a scene, he was even more fascinating. Energy swirled around the dominant as his control over his surroundings extended to fill every scrap of space around him, to fill the sub space inside the head of any submissive near him.

“Come here.”

The command didn’t include permission to rise. The expression on his temporary master’s face made Rip sure it wasn’t an oversight on Slade’s part.

He shuffled forward on his knees. Unable to reach out and steady himself while his hands were secured behind his back, his progress was both slow and clumsy. He felt the older man’s eyes take in every detail as he falteringly made his way towards the other man’s feet.

His friend offered neither criticism when he came very close to falling flat on his face, nor praise when Rip managed to keep himself upright through sheer force of will. He had his order, he was completing it to the best of his ability, and Slade seemed content to let his submissive strive to please him in silence.

Several eternities passed before Rip heaved a sigh of relief. Kneeling between the other man’s outstretched legs, he looked to him for another order. Slade offered the crop to his lips.

Rip swallowed, but didn’t dare open his mouth to speak.

“Kiss.”

He pressed his lips against the folded edge of the leather.

Slade didn’t take it away after the initial chaste salute.

Rip let his mouth fall open. Slade tapped at his bottom lip. Rip opened his mouth further. The leather caressed his lips, teasing his tongue, coaxing him to murmur his pleasure as the texture and taste of leather filled his senses.

When Slade took away his toy, Rip couldn’t hold back a frustrated moan. When the crop tapped against the back of his collar, he quickly shut himself the hell up before he managed to moan his way out of getting exactly what he wanted.

The crop came down again, snapping slightly against the skin just above his collar as Slade reminded him he had yet to obey his last order. He leant forward, letting the crop guide him towards the other man’s fly.

As his mouth reached Slade’s jeans, Rip nuzzled at the zip and button, not sure if he was allowed to try to free his friend’s cock from the straining fabric with his teeth or not.

A hand nudged his face away and completed the task for him. Fastenings undone, Slade pushed the fabric aside. The submissive needed no further encouragement. The moment the dominant’s hand was out of his way, he lowered his head and eagerly sucked the tip into his mouth.

Moaning greedily around the shaft, he immediately tried to cocoon as much of the other man’s cock between his lips as he could, desperate to taste him as he came.

“I’m not in a rush.”

Rip pulled back and reluctantly let his prize slip from his mouth. He licked his lips and swallowed several times before he trusted his voice.

“Understood, sir.”

Slade smiled slightly as he settled himself a little more comfortably in his chair. Elbows on the arm rests, he arched the crop over Rip’s head, flexing the rod between his hands as he toyed with it.

Rip bowed his head once more. Slade could say what he was like. The dominant’s cock was just as eager as his submissive was, even if the rest of him wasn’t willing to admit it. He wanted to spill into his mouth just as much as Rip wanted to taste him on his tongue, to swallow him down and know that he had pleased his master in the most basic way a man could.

Unable to hurry the dominant along, he contented himself with lapping delicately at the head, making the most of the drops of pre-cum as they were offered up to him. Impatient to be allowed to please his lover, he soon began trailed licks and kisses down the other man’s shaft until his lips reached the top of his sac. They were already tightly drawn up. Burrowing his face into the fabric, Rip was just able to lap at the other man’s balls.

Slade made no attempt to help him by moving the fabric further out of his way. He let him struggle. Rip felt an extra little jolt of adrenaline rush to his cock as he realised the other man really felt no obligation to make his life easier out of pointless politeness.

He would get whatever his master chose to give him and gain privileges as and when he earned them, not before. In a way he couldn’t explain, something settled inside him with the knowledge. The world became a far simpler place.

The crop came to rest on the submissive’s back. The tip traced up and down his spine, a gentle little tease. Rip groaned against the other man’s skin as he arched and strove for more. A tap ordered him to stay still. He obeyed, forcing himself to accept whatever the crop offered him without trying to receive more than his master thought he deserved.

Slade’s free hand came to rest on the back of his head. Rip looked up at his friend as the older man guided him to take his shaft properly into his mouth once more.

Rip moaned his appreciation as the dominant tangled his fingers into his hair. There were no civil little requests. Slade picked the rhythm he wanted and he guided Rip to lower and raise his head in exact accordance with it. All Rip could do was suck and lick the other man’s shaft as it slid past his lips and filled his mouth over and over again.

Arching in his chair, Slade came, hard and fast, pushing himself deep into Rip’s mouth as he groaned his pleasure. His grip tightened on Rip’s hair. The submissive clenched his own hands tightly behind his back, pulling at his bonds as he desperately fought not to follow his master’s lead and come completely untouched—and entirely without permission.

Slade’s grip on his hair didn’t relax. He kept him there for a long time. Rip closed his eyes, suckling contentedly around the softening shaft until the other man finally released him. Even then, he didn’t rush to pull away.

His head swirled with submission and his own desire to come. Even if his hands had been free, he knew he wouldn’t have had the coordination to fasten the other man’s clothes for him. All he could do was kneel very still and pray that by the time the next order came, he would have scrambled together enough control to obey it.

The dominant straightened his clothes and picked up the crop again. “Stand.”

Rip struggle up onto his feet. It wasn’t an elegant expression of obedience, but he managed to follow the order. He wasn’t above being thankful for that small mercy.

Slade stood too. Reaching behind Rip, he set the hand holding the crop on his back. The crop lined up perfectly with his spine. Slade’s other hand settled over Rip’s fly. The submissive gasped, frantically trying not to push himself into the other man’s palm without permission. He bit down so hard into his bottom lip, he drew blood.

The dominant squeezed him through the thin leather, manipulating his cock behind the scant covering again and again. He was so close to the edge, that was all it took. Rip’s hips rocked, helplessly rubbing his crotch against the other man’s hand as he came.

Slade let his hand linger there long after Rip stilled, cupping his cock as his cum cooled and turned sticky inside his leather shorts. Rip managed to open his eyes. He looked up at the other man.

A touch of amusement lurked in the dominant’s expression, but it wasn’t the only emotion there. For a straight man, he didn’t seem to mind palming his cock that way. Come to that, there really didn’t seem to be a great many things Slade didn’t enjoy doing with a guy, once called upon to play white knight to a submissive in distress.

With that fact now firmly established inside Rip’s mind, there was only one thing for him to do. Somehow he had to ensure that there would be lots more reasons for him to send the gayday signal up in the future…

* * * *

Several weeks later, Rip Tatry stole a glance at his friend’s profile as Slade drove him home after rescuing him from Cartwright’s yet again. His back shifted against the car seat as he turned towards the other man. Sparks danced along the lines the dominant’s whip had left on his skin.

He automatically pressed himself back more firmly against the leather seat, looking for more. The older man hadn’t chosen to offer his submissive his hand that night. He was still hard and frustrated.

“I said no wriggling,” Slade reminded him. But the tone of voice was wrong. The dominant’s whole mood had been off all evening.

“Sorry, sir.” Rip stopped wriggling, but inside his head, his thoughts raced faster and faster. Another glance at the other man out of the corner of his eye and Rip couldn’t avoid the obvious any longer. He might love every minute he spent with Slade, but his friend was obviously getting bored with their hook-ups.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He’d known from the start that their connection was too bizarre to last for long. A few weeks ago, the fact Slade was losing interest in it would have been a sign to start turning his attention to the other dominants around them, to start working out who he might want to play with next.

Now, Rip felt his whole body tense at the idea of not belonging to Slade. Even if all he could get was a few hours now and again when he phoned the dominant and asked to be rescued, it was something. Rip took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. It was something he’d be damned if he would lose without a fight.

If he didn’t screw up, there was no reason to believe he couldn’t keep their momentum going for at least a few more weeks. All he really had to do was stop the other man getting bored, stop him thinking too hard about the fact he wasn’t spending his evenings with the perfect female sub he probably liked to imagine himself with.

Rip nodded silently to himself. All he actually had to do was up the ante. He could do that…

Chapter Three

Slade glared at his sat nav as it ordered him to turn into an unfamiliar part of the city. This time would be the last time. He repeated that fact over and over inside his head, just in case it would help. This time was the last time he would answer one of his friend’s nocturnal distress calls.

The fact that going to rescue his friend from all the stupid little scrapes he plunged himself into, had actually turned out to be a hell of a lot of fun was irrelevant. No dominant in his right mind could put up with being called to heel that way forever.

Slade sighed as he stopped at a set of traffic lights. He wasn’t so pathetic that he’d admit out loud that going to rescue his foolish little friend had somehow become the highlight of his week. But, inside his head, it was far harder to pretend he didn’t look forward to his calls.

Between taking over a bull whipping demonstration when Rip volunteered to take part, only to then decide he didn’t want a stranger whipping him after all. And finding Rip’s credit card and using it to buy up the silly little fool when he “accidentally” managed to enter himself into a charity slave auction at yet another club. He hadn’t had much time to worry about the uncomfortable feeling that itched at the back of his mind every time he dropped his friend back on his doorstep.

Another set of traffic lights. Another sigh. Called to heel when needed, dismissed when his job was done. The fact that Rip had turned out to be a fantastic submissive in between those times didn’t make it acceptable for him to try to take control of the whole world every time he picked up the phone.