Of Being Yours[another way 2] (9 page)

After a couple of hours of doing aimless chores around the house, I really did need to pee, and trying to do so through the plastic didn’t appeal to me in the slightest. Will seemed to know that I was ready to take it off and didn’t try to push me into keeping it on.

He led me back to the kitchen table where he repeated and reversed the pants down, cock out ritual. There was a temptation to tell him “while you’re down there, make yourself useful,” but apart from the spanking that would surely earn me, I really did need to use the bathroom.

When I returned to the kitchen, the plain box and the brown paper bag had both disappeared, both they and their contents tucked safely away until we needed them again. Unlike other experiences we’d shared, Will didn’t immediately push me for my opinion on our latest toy, or what it might or might not mean in further sessions.

I appreciated that as much as the session itself. Coming to terms with these things sometimes took time for me, and I had a feeling I’d be reflecting on this one for quite a while to come.

Chapter 6

W
E
’
D
been invited to a couple of different Halloween parties and made vague, noncommittal humming noises to all of them until one came in from Laura. She was hosting a costume party and play night at a BDSM club in the city and had asked Will and me if we were interested in doing a demonstration.

I’d always balked at the idea of performing in public, even at one of the meetings that Will hosted in our home from time to time. My fear was based, at least at the beginning, on being recognized by someone who would report back to Adele about what I was getting up to behind her back. I wasn’t proud of myself.

But now Will and I had been together for long enough that I had nothing to worry about. Sure, there were people who could make things slightly more difficult for me at work, but to do that, they would have to be at the sex club too.

So I agreed, with no little amount of trepidation, to do a rope bondage display.

Which was how I found myself in our attic playroom on a Thursday night with several feet of rope and a stressed-out partner.

We’d agreed that while Will worked on the type of bondage he wanted to create, we wouldn’t look on it as a normal session. For that reason, I was dressed in a pair of loose jogging pants and a tank top, and we had an almost normal conversation about our day as he wrapped the ropes around me.

It was a pretty standard, if not slightly complex, setup where the ultimate aim was for me to be balanced on the ball of one foot, my arms tied behind my back and my chest parallel to the floor, with my nonsupporting leg bent at right angles at the thigh and knee. It was the last part that I was having trouble with. My hip didn’t seem to like the position all that much, and Will was trying to work out the best way of supporting my knee and ankle so they formed a perfect L shape midair.

“I had no idea that it took so long to work this out,” I said, staring at the floor. He hadn’t forced me up to balance on my toes tonight while he worked on getting my other leg right.

“Sometimes it’s easy,” he said as he adjusted the ropes for what felt like the hundredth time. “If we were just in session together, it wouldn’t be so important to work on the fine details. But when it’s a performance, I want to make it perfect.”

“Now you’re making me nervous.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s not you they’re going to be watching.”

“Oh, that’s a lie!”

“Okay. Well, it won’t be you they’ll blame if it fucks up. Not that it’s going to fuck up, because I’m going to make damn sure it’s perfect.”

In the end we had three sessions of Will working on the design for the ropes, the last one more about making it aesthetically pleasing. We had almost matching outfits, something that I’d hated at first, but in the end, the dark-brown leather suited us both and tied me to him in a visible way.

Ours wasn’t the first demo of the night, so we had a chance to wander around the club for a while before our room became free. Nor was it the only demo that was going on during our time slot, which also eased the pressure a little bit. If people had any issues with our being a gay couple, then they didn’t have to watch. It was clearly marked on the door as being a M/M scene.

Just before we got started, Will closed the door and had me strip off. We had discussed whether or not I’d be naked, and ultimately it had been my decision to be bare. He had me kneel in the corner facing the wall while he set up, and although the floor was cold, the air was warm, and I slipped easily into my subspace.

There was a low murmur of voices when people started to arrive, and Master left me in my corner while he addressed our audience.

“Thanks for joining us tonight,” he said in the low voice I associated with our sessions. “I’ll just reiterate before we begin that this is a male sub, male Dom display and we’ll act accordingly. If you don’t want to watch, you’re welcome to leave with no hard feelings.”

There was a small pause where no one moved. “Laura McAlder is here serving as our spotter. I’d ask that if there is any reason to stop the session that you please don’t approach the sub.” Hearing him address me as “the sub” was just perfect for me to slip further into my subspace. “Combined, Laura and I have years of experience in working with Jesse, and we are confident that we know his limits. And he too is very aware of his own.

“Jesse,” he said, addressing me, and I rose to stand by his side. I folded my hands behind my back, grasping each wrist with the opposite hand, spread my legs, and fixed my eyes on the floor. Master ran his fingers gently through my hair and kissed my cheek before leading me to the spot where we’d start the demonstration.

After the first few nerve-racking moments, I relaxed into the situation. I wasn’t completely comfortable or at ease, something that Master must have noticed due to his constant, gently reassuring touches. I hadn’t needed that kind of reassurance in a session for years, but I appreciated the way he knew me intimately enough to see that I needed them in this unfamiliar situation.

Our audience was mostly quiet, but Master addressed them at regular intervals. Although it was a demonstration rather than an interactive workshop, his attitude was that everyone should still be able to walk away having learned something.

When the rigging was complete, Will invited the group to take a closer look at his work on the condition that no one touched me. While I felt people moving around, I decided not to open my eyes, instead concentrating on my deep breathing and staying balanced.

I felt him at my side, then near my head, and he stroked my hair gently. Since I had room to do it, I dropped my head to his hip and let the warmth and smell of the leather reassure me.

It seemed almost anticlimactic for me not to be fucked like this, or at least flogged, since I was undoubtedly aroused by having someone watch me. But we hadn’t agreed on it before we started, and there was no way Master would take my word that I wanted it when it was impossible for me to discuss it rationally. I knew I was affected by my subspace and that there would be more opportunities to do this again in the future.

The crowd stayed to watch as he derigged, releasing my leg first, then my back, and finally my arms. The whole session had taken nearly forty minutes, and he helped me relax my cramped muscles with gently massaging fingers.

When it was over, I knelt at his feet while he took a few questions. Then the crowd dispersed.

“Nice work, Will. Well done, Jesse,” Laura said.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” I murmured.

She patted me on the head and followed the last observer out the door.

Master held out a hand and helped me to my feet again, then had me dress before kissing me with unrestrained passion and need. “There’s no time,” he said on a groan as I palmed his cock. “There’s going to be another demonstration in here in a minute.”

“Need you.”

“I know, baby. I know. Come on.”

The club had a seating area with a few low couches, and it was there he led me. Then he pulled me onto his lap. It wasn’t the fucking that I wanted, but it was one way for us to connect and review what had happened.

When a tall dark-haired man approached us, I didn’t pay him much attention, although Will seemed to know him.

“Nice to see you again,” he said, shaking hands with the other man, who looked down at me with a raised eyebrow.

“You coddle him, Will.”

“Allow me to respectfully disagree,” he said, pushing his blunt nails through my hair and making me practically purr with satisfaction. “Jesse just had his first public session, which he handled amazingly, and is currently riding a huge high. He needs
this
, not to be abandoned when he wants to be touched.”

The other master raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, a clear sign that he disagreed.

“This is why I never strike up a more…
attached
relationship with my submissives.”

“Not all subs get off on subjugation and humiliation, Alistair. Some of them are sweet and loving, and if you nurture that side of them, you get to reap the rewards.”

“Well, enjoy married life, William,” Alistair said.

“Don’t worry,” Will said and scratched the back of my head again. “I am.”

I waited until he was out of hearing distance before turning to Will. “Can we go and dance now?”

“Do you want to?” he asked. “If you’d prefer, we can just head home.”

“Why on earth would we do that?” I asked, kissing him hard and fast.

He laughed as he followed my wriggling ass to the small dance floor and let me grind up against him to the beat of the music. It wasn’t a gay club, not particularly, and I knew that the gay D/s crowd usually had their own clubs to frequent. There were only a few gay couples, Will and I included, that were part of the core D/s scene in the city.

So when Cass approached us, I was slightly surprised. He was a big burly bear of a man with a contrastingly petit sub following him on a leash. I offered him a tentative smile as he shook hands with Will, and went to do the same to his sub, but the boy didn’t raise his eyes from the floor.

“New pet?” Will asked with a smirk.

“How did you guess?” Cass asked. “This is Pet. I’m taking him down to the Dungeon.”

Ah, the Dungeon.

We’d been there a handful of times, mostly within the past year. To be frank, the place terrified me as much as it turned me on.

Whereas our regular club was part nightclub, part D/s display areas, and part private rooms, the Dungeon was a dark, appropriately dingy space where sex, submission, and sadomasochism all thrived. It was exclusive to gay men. And was regularly being shut down and reopened.

Guys fucked
everywhere.
Men crawled on their knees and licked leather boots. Stuff that I didn’t even like to consider happened in the bathrooms.

But when Will had linked my cuffs to a cross on the wall and flogged my back while other men watched and openly jerked off at my cries of pain, it was one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced.

I slipped my hand into Will’s.

“Can we go too?” I asked him.

He looked at me in surprise. “You sure?”

I nodded.

He kissed me on the forehead. “Sure. Of course.”

We found Laura, said our good-byes, and piled into my car to drive the short distance downtown to the back street where the Dungeon lurked. To get in, we each had to slap a twenty into the palm of a guy who had hands the size of trash can lids. He grunted in response and jerked his head back toward the long narrow corridor that led to a steep flight of stairs.

I let Cass and his Pet take the lead, following with my hand in Will’s.

In the Dungeon anonymity was the name of the game. No one referred to anyone else by name. If you saw a friend, a neighbor, a colleague, you walked past them. No eye contact, no ID, no limits. There was no house safeword here. No questions asked beyond “positive or negative?”

Condoms were supplied. It was up to you if you used them.

We’d never fucked in the Dungeon and never would. It was a conversation we’d had after the first time we’d come here and a decision made by mutual agreement.

The walls were painted a matte black, but the paint was peeling in places, and corners were cut when repainting was done, which was rarely. The stairs were lit with alternating electric blue and UV bulbs, casting an eerie glow over skin and clothes. It was a sign—this place was otherworldly. The normal rules did not apply here.

Halfway down the stairs I stopped and wrote JR + WA in the condensation that had built up on the wall, and encircled it with a heart.

“Who says romance is dead?” Will said, laughing, and tugged me down the last few stairs.

Most D/s clubs—the nice ones, at least—have a particular smell about them. It’s harsh, antiseptic, telling you that the equipment and its users are kept clean. Not here though. It’s sweat and men and testosterone and come, a new atmosphere that tells you the occupants of the bar are not kept clean. And that’s the way they like it.