Duck!

by Kim Dare

  Ori whimpered.

  “A servant has rights that a submissive can’t lay claim to. A certain degree of freedom. Some level of privacy. The chance to shape his own life and make a great many decisions on his own behalf. Some men find it hard to give up such rights.”

  Raynard’s knuckle seemed to fill Ori’s physical world, just as Raynard’s words filled his head. The temptation was too great. He ran his tongue over it.

  Raynard smiled slightly. Emboldened by that, Ori looked up and met his eyes. There was a light shining in them that Ori had never seen before. Raynard moved his knuckle slightly, seeming to encourage Ori’s attentions to it.

  Ori sucked cautiously against Raynard’s skin. His eyes dropped closed as the taste of Raynard seeped into his mouth.

  “There’s no shame in being another man’s submissive, Ori. But if you’re not truly suited to it, if it doesn’t call to something deep inside you, I’d imagine it’s little better than torture.”

  Ori whimpered as he tried to suck Raynard’s finger deeper into his mouth. Without any warning, the digit was taken away.

  Ori blinked open his eyes. Raynard was still studying him very carefully.

  Raynard tilted his chin up. His voice changed. It lost it’s considering quality and became all brisk and business-like. “Make your choice, fledgling. What are you to be—a servant or a submissive?”

  Ori could barely breathe, let alone think. He had to swallow rapidly before he could make his throat let words through. “Whatever—” He stopped short when he saw the look in Raynard’s eye.

  “Whatever your place in my house, if I ask you to make a decision, I expect you to make it.”

  Ori took a shaky breath. There was really no choice to be made. There was only one answer he could possibly want to give. “Submissive, sir.”

  Raynard didn’t smile, but the light in his eyes grew brighter. In some way that Ori didn’t really understand, he sensed that he’d pleased Raynard, that he had pleased his master. Closing his eyes for a moment, Ori relished the possibility.

  “When you’ve finished your work here, join me in the study.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Raynard took a step back. Ori remained perfectly still as he waited for Raynard to leave the room, but the hawk merely stood there, less than a yard away from him. He raised an eyebrow as if asking what Ori was hanging around for.

  Ori hesitated. “Shall I fetch my clothes, sir?”

  “No.” It was a simple statement of the way things were going to be. No room for argument existed.

  Very slowly, Ori nodded his understanding.

  In theory, he knew he hadn’t been wearing a great deal when he’d served at the nest. The shorts hadn’t hidden much. But he’d have given anything to be wearing them at that moment.

  Standing before Raynard, with his hands still covering his erection, Ori found himself frozen in place. He couldn’t move.

  Raynard didn’t stir either.

  It was one thing to say he wanted to be Raynard’s submissive, to say he’d obey any order Raynard issued. It was quite another to do it. And as he stood there, Ori knew this was his first test.

  A servant would be permitted to fetch his clothes. A submissive was not. He took a deep breath as the differences between the two titles made themselves felt inside his head for the first time.

  Tension poured into Ori’s body. Every joint ached. Each muscle cramped. If Raynard had told him to get on his knees, it would have been so easy. It was the idea of calmly returning to his duties while Raynard was clearly able to see how he affected him that made the breath catch in Ori’s throat and threaten to choke him.

  Looking up, Ori met Raynard’s eyes one more time. He held his gaze as he finally managed to drop his hands to his sides.

  “Back to your duties,” Raynard ordered again.

  Ori turned away from him. His legs threatened to give way as he picked up a box of books and carted it the rest of the way across the room, but he made it.

  Raynard’s eyes tracked Ori’s every action, trailing over his bare skin. His hands shook with the effort it took to keep working rather than stop and cover himself. A few minutes passed before a movement out of the corner of his eye made Ori look over his shoulder.

  Raynard nodded to him, just once, turned and left the room.

  Resting his hands on the table in front of him, Ori closed his eyes and tried to make his head stop spinning. Relief at pleasing Raynard glowed inside him, but with it came a kind of fear he’d never really felt before, a terror that Raynard’s approval wouldn’t last forever, that it would be all too easily lost and that once that happened, he’d never be able to get it back.

  Taking a deep breath, Ori tried to turn his attention back to his work. He looked around the library, desperately trying to focus in on the task at hand. It was a stunning space, or it would be once it was put in order.

  Books had been pushed haphazardly onto the shelves wherever they would fit—and shoved into gaps where they didn’t really fit. Dozens still lingered in boxes, while some of the shelves remained empty. There was several weeks’ worth of work to be done in there, fitted in around his day-to-day duties, but Ori couldn’t help but hope that Raynard might be pleased with the finished result.

  Half an hour later, Ori straightened a pile of boxes. Then he straightened them a fraction more, until they couldn’t possibly be any straighter. The simple fact was the tasks he had assigned himself for that day were complete. He no longer had any excuse to linger in the safe solitude of the library.

  Taking a deep breath, Ori turned toward the door leading out of the library—the one that would take him back to Raynard, to his master. Looking down his body, Ori bit his lip. He was still as hard as ever. He shouldn’t really face Raynard as he was. Not just erect, but covered in dust too.

  It wouldn’t take him long to rush down to the servants’ quarters and jump in the shower. A cold shower would solve all his problems. A hot shower and a hand slicked with shower gel would be an even better solution.

  Ori stepped into the hallway and looked toward the door leading down to his quarters. His hand tightened into a fist at his side as he fought against the urge to take refuge there. If Raynard had wanted him to shower, that’s what he’d have ordered him to do. Raynard didn’t forget to mention things like that.

  It didn’t matter if he’d lived in Raynard’s house as a servant or as a submissive. Ori knew him well enough to know that, if he’d wanted him clean and presentable, Raynard would have ordered him to be that way.

  Ori’s bare feet made no sound on the freshly scrubbed hall tiles as he walked across to Raynard’s study door and tapped tentatively on the dark, panelled wood.

  “Enter.”

  Ori opened the door just wide enough to slip inside the room. Raynard’s attention remained on his paperwork for a few seconds. Ori closed the door behind him and stood to one side of it, waiting for Raynard, for his master, to recognise his presence.

  His master. The term rushed to Ori’s cock even as it wrapped around him and made him feel strangely safe.

  Finally, Raynard looked up. He ran his eyes over Ori from tip to toe, taking in every detail—dust smears, erection and everything else. It was all Ori could do to keep his hands at his sides.

  “Come here.”

  Ori stepped forward.

  Before he could reach the spot where he usually stood, directly in front of the desk, Raynard turned his chair and looked pointedly at the floor just in front of his feet.

  Ori altered his course. The next order was obvious. He dropped to his knees in front of his new master. Raynard made no complaint about that, but when Ori reached for his fly, he found Raynard’s hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, stopping him short before he even had a chance to unzip him.

  He should have waited for permission. All at once, that was obvious. Ori looked down, mentally cursing himself for letting his stupidity ensure Raynard’s po
ssession of him would now begin with a whipping rather than a blowjob.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, fledgling.”

  Ori kept his gaze on Raynard’s feet. When Raynard released his wrist, Ori let his arm drop down and hang idly at his side. He stayed very still then, unable to do anything more than exist until his master’s next order hit the air. He hadn’t stumbled across a whip when he’d been cleaning the house, but he had no doubt there’d be one somewhere. His time at the nest had taught him that much. There was no such thing as a high ranking avian who didn’t own a whip—who didn’t know how to use one on any lower ranking shifter who was foolish enough to displease him.

  “Look up.”

  It wasn’t the command he’d expected, but Ori still obeyed it. His eyes met Raynard’s. For a long time, Raynard held Ori’s gaze, and Ori found it impossible to look away.

  When Raynard finally turned his attention elsewhere, he reached into his desk drawer and picked up a narrow black box. Ori kept his body motionless, but he couldn’t stop himself following his master’s movements with his eyes. The box was far too small to contain a whip. Raynard opened it. A black leather collar lay against the crisp white lining.

  Ori stopped breathing.

  It was a simple item—no more than an inch wide and decorated with nothing more flamboyant than a simple silver buckle and a circular tag. It was impossible for Ori to make out the engraving on the tag, but he knew what would be there. He’d seen more than a few collared men come and go at the nest.

  One side would declare Property of Mr Frederick Raynard. The other would show his master’s rank as a hawk. It would give whoever wore it the protection of that rank.

  “You understand what a collar means between avians?” Raynard asked.

  Ori opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again, just in time to stop himself from giving the worst possible answer. A second later, he found the right response. “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me your first instinct.”

  Swallowing down his nerves, Ori forced himself to utter his original answer. “Mr Hamilton said that collars are only for men who knew who they really are, sir—shifters who know what sort of avian they will become when they’re fully fledged.”

  “Do you have any doubts that you’ll become the kind of avian whose species makes him suited to wearing another man’s collar?” Raynard asked, seriously.

  Ori shook his head.

  When he looked up, he saw a tiny smile twisting Raynard’s lips. “Neither do I.”

  Ori found himself smiling back. Relief rushed through him as Raynard’s acceptance flew through his veins.

  “Nevertheless,” Raynard said, his expression once more unreadable. “The collar will be removed when you go in front of the elders to complete your first full shift. You’ll be given a free choice over if you wish to retain it after everything is certain.”

  “I will want to, sir,” Ori blurted out.

  “Then,” Raynard corrected. “Not now. For now, all you need to be sure of is that you wish to wear it until then.”

  “Yes, sir.” No answer had ever been easier to give.

  Raynard took the collar from the box. The leather slid through his fingers as if he’d been handling the material his entire life. A shiver ran along Ori’s spine as the collar encircled his neck for the first time. His master’s knuckles brushed against his skin as he fastened it in place and slipped two fingers inside it to check the fit, just the way Ori had seen humans check the size of a new puppy’s collar.

  A slight colour made its way to Ori’s cheeks with the comparison. But the knowledge that he now belonged to Raynard in every way there was, went swiftly to his cock.

  Ori hadn’t thought it was possible for him to get any harder. He’d been wrong. He could barely hold back a whimper as his cock begged for attention. A few strokes would be all he needed.

  He quickly swallowed down the desire for his own pleasure. His new collar moved around his throat, reminding him of Raynard’s dominance over him. He had a master now—there was only one man whose enjoyment he should be thinking of.

  Lifting his eyes, Ori looked to his master, hoping Raynard might have changed his mind about allowing him to go down on him.

  “Go to your quarters. Clean yourself up.”

  “Yes, sir.” Pushing aside his disappointment, Ori rose very slowly to his feet. He kept his hands by his sides through sheer force of will as he felt his master’s eyes track his progress across the room.

  As he closed the heavy wooden door behind him, Ori let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. His hands rushed to his crotch, hiding his erection even though there was no one else in the hallway.

  Looking down his body, Ori stared at the back of his dusty hands. Just because Raynard wasn’t there to see him, that didn’t mean he could forget how his master wanted him to behave.

  His limbs fought him every inch of the way, but somehow, Ori managed to bring his hands down to his sides. His cock curved proudly up toward his stomach, begging for attention, the only part of him not embarrassed by his own enthusiasm.

  Ori took a deep breath. If Raynard didn’t want him to cover himself, the best way he could serve his master was to get used to that fact as quickly as possible. He refused to let his hands creep back to hide his erection.

  His fingertips went to his collar instead. It felt good around his neck, a solid reassuring reminder of Raynard’s ownership of him. Ori smiled to himself as he turned his attention to Raynard’s next order.

  Down in the servants’ quarters, he quickly made his way into the little bathroom off the butler’s bedroom and turned on the shower over the tub. As soon as the spray reached a comfortable temperature, Ori tipped back his head, letting the warm water saturate his hair and cascade down his body.

  A shudder ran through him as rivulets caressed his aching shaft. Eyes closed, he stood very still. He wasn’t going to come just from the feel of the shower. He wasn’t.

  Ori took a deep, gasping breath. Water trickled into his mouth as he fought for control. His hand went to his collar again. The leather was wet. His fingers slid over it. Hooking the digits between his neck and the buckle, he tugged gently at it. A whimper escaped from the back of his throat as his imagination turned the sensation into something that could only be produced when his master attached a lead to the collar and called him to heel with it.

  Blinking open his eyes, Ori stared down his body. The fingers of one hand still hooked into his collar, he was helpless to stop his other hand going to his cock. There was no thought of hiding his erection now.

  From the first moment his hand touched his shaft, his hips refused to stay still.

  Ori.

  A chiding note crept into Raynard’s voice as he said his name. Ori didn’t have his master’s permission to move that way.

  As he closed his eyes once more, a mental picture of Raynard standing next to him, staring down at him, filled his mind. His master’s hand replaced reality. Ori bit back a moan as he fought for breath under the pounding water.

  Stay still, and I just might let you come.

  Pleasure made Ori weak. Releasing his hold on his collar, he reached for the wall in front of him to steady himself. His palm slipped against the wet tiles. He tried to adjust his footing in the bottom of the bath, and almost stumbled. A shiver ran through him despite the heat and steam that swirled around the room.

  “That’s enough.”

  For a second, the words seemed no more real than any of the others Ori had ‘heard’ his master say since he stepped under the shower. Very slowly, reality reasserted itself.

  Spinning around, Ori came face to face with his master in the flesh.

  Raynard stepped further into the room. All Ori could do was stare as Raynard reached the edge of the bathtub.

  “Come here.”

  Ori’s feet took over. He stepped forward, out of range of the shower, out from behind the clear
glass partition that separated it from the rest of the room.

  Raynard took hold of Ori’s wrist. Suddenly, Ori realised that his hand was still wrapped around his cock. Fresh embarrassment rushed to his cheeks. He tried to snatch his hand away more quickly, but Raynard’s grip ensured Ori moved at exactly the speed his master chose and no faster.

  “As of this moment, only one man’s hands touch you.”

  Ori swallowed.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You don’t jack off. You don’t touch your cock. You don’t come without my permission—no exceptions.”

  Eyes once more fixed somewhere around the third button of Raynard’s shirt, Ori nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Raynard slid his other hand into Ori’s hair. Strong fingers tugged at the wet strands, pulling his head back. Ori lifted his gaze. His eyes met his master’s eyes.

  Raynard had no reason to be pleased with him, but Ori saw no evidence of annoyance in his expression. The light he’d seen in his eyes earlier was still there.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered, fear and uncertainty combining to turn the words throaty and hesitant.

  Raynard raised an eyebrow. “For doing something that I’ve never forbidden you from doing?”

  Ori wasn’t sure what to say. He tried to lower his gaze, but Raynard tugged his hair again and made him look up.

  “Now that I have forbidden it, I expect you to follow the order.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Raynard released both Ori’s wrist and his hair, and took a step back. Ori once more dropped his arm to hang idly at his side.

  He had to fight against the urge to cover himself as Raynard ran his eyes over him from top to toe once more. Ori lowered his gaze. He wasn’t attempting an inspection of his own, but it was impossible to miss the fact that, behind his nicely tailored trousers, Raynard was just as hard as he was.

  “May I serve you, sir?” Ori whispered.

  Raynard looked up from his inspection. When Ori would have spoken again, unable to bare the silence that grew between them, Raynard stopped him short with a shake of the head. “I’m going out.”