by Kim Dare
The same couldn’t be said for the crow crumpled on the floor with his hands clamped down over his crotch. A knee had obviously made recent acquaintance with his balls.
Another of the crows from the flock that lived at the nest approached Ori, his trainers squeaking against the tiled floor. Ori held his ground far better than Raynard expected, even tilting his chin back and looking the crow straight in the eye.
“And what do you think your master will say when we tell him—”
“His master will tell Ori that he’s obeyed his orders very well,” Raynard cut in.
Ori jerked around to face Raynard.
“He doesn’t have permission to allow any other man to lay a hand on him,” Raynard added, catching Ori’s gaze and holding it. “I assume you mentioned that fact to them?”
“Yes, sir.”
Raynard nodded his approval. “Good boy.”
Raynard forced himself to look away so he could meet the gaze of every other man lurking in the narrow corridor. He had a feeling that any man in the nest who was tempted to try to treat Ori as public property, would soon take note. Word like that flew around the nest quickly. Raynard’s sub can defend himself—and his master likes that fact.
Raynard took a pace back. Without so much as a glance at the other men present, Ori stepped over the prone crow and hurried across to join Raynard. They made their way out of the corridor, stopping only for Raynard to mention to one of the nest’s security flock that an eye should be kept on the servant who’d been at Ori’s side, just in case the crows took exception to him.
Finding their seats again, Raynard settled himself in his chair.
“You did well,” he told Ori, nodding to the cushion at his feet once more.
“Do you really think so?” Hamilton asked, as he took a seat on the sofa opposite Raynard.
“He followed my orders perfectly,” Raynard snapped.
“You ordered him to strike out at a higher ranking avian?”
“I ordered him to defend himself if he needed to,” Raynard corrected. He barely managed to stop himself pointing out that it was the same order Hamilton should have given Ori when he first came to the nest.
Ori dipped his head to lean his temple against Raynard’s knee as he instinctively sought his reassurance. A shudder ran through him. Raynard settled his hand in Ori’s hair, encouraging him to stay there and rest until he got himself back together.
Hamilton seemed to linger for a long time, purely to be annoying. Raynard gave the leader of the nest less than half his attention. His focus was on his fledgling. Ori really had come a long way since they were last at the nest. He would never have had the confidence to floor the crow back then. Raynard smiled to himself with the knowledge. Pride rushed through him.
Finally, Hamilton got bored and moved away to bother someone else.
“Where did all that courage come from?” Raynard whispered to Ori.
Ori looked up at him through his lashes as he lifted his hand to his collar. It didn’t seem to be an intentional answer as much as an instinctive gesture, but it was still remarkably eloquent.
When Raynard rose, Ori did the same. He fell into step beside Raynard as if it was the most natural thing in the world. If he was anxious about remaining in the nest, he showed no sign of it.
By the time they’d made their way into the maze of playrooms that existed on one of the upper floors of the club, no one who saw them could have doubted exactly who Ori belonged to. Every shifter who had looked consideringly at Ori had also met Raynard’s eye—and every one of them had lowered his gaze before a hawk. Raynard was gradually starting to feel a little bit better about the world.
The main exhibition station in the centre of the most overtly leather-clad part of the nest was set up for a whipping. Raynard heard Ori’s steps falter when the arched wooden frame came into view. Raynard glanced toward him. Tension ran through every bit of Ori’s body, half fear and half something far more interesting.
Raynard walked confidently up to the whipping post as if that had been his intended destination all along. Ori didn’t hang back. He didn’t speak either.
Raynard carefully examined the cuffs that hung down from the top of the arch. They looked harsh, but they were actually well padded. They would do nicely.
Raynard looked over his shoulder. Their eyes met.
“Take off your coat and shirt.”
Ori maintained eye contact as he obeyed. Garments removed, he folded each one and knelt down to place them neatly on the floor just outside the whipping area. And he did it all without looking away from Raynard for a second.
Ori got up off his knees, but he didn’t approach the arch. Settling himself into his rest position, he remained on the edge of the whipping area, waiting for his master to invite him closer.
Raynard didn’t make him wait too long. He soon had the cuffs wrapped around Ori’s wrists, securing his hands above his head. The arch was high and Ori was far from the tallest of avians. Every inch of his body was stretched out taut, creating a perfect canvas for Raynard to decorate in any way he chose.
Ori had healed well after his fall, only a slight scar still lingering on his left forearm. Raynard ran a knuckle along it. Ori swallowed rapidly. He’d expected to be whipped as a punishment for that tumble. He’d have taken whatever Raynard had dished out and thanked him for beating him senseless over an accident. Raynard remembered the look in his fledgling’s eyes so well, the pure desperation.
Time for his next lesson in the difference between submitting to a club full of fools and one good master…
“Just because I want to,” Raynard whispered into Ori’s ear. “Because you belong to me and tonight you’ve earned the right to have a few extra marks to show it.”
As easily as the words left his lips, Raynard sensed any lingering fear leave Ori. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told his master that the knowledge it was a punishment was the only thing he’d hated about being whipped.
Ori took a slow, deep breath and looked up at Raynard. The same desperation to please was in his eyes again, but now it was mitigated by the knowledge that Raynard was already pleased with him, and tempered with the realisation that from that moment on, a whipping would be a sign of that and nothing else.
Satisfied they understood each other, Raynard turned away. He picked up a whip from a table where a selection had been laid out for the use of any avian with a high enough rank. Raynard didn’t look around the room, but he knew full well that there were already a dozen or more men watching them, waiting to see exactly what the new hawk intended to do with his submissive.
Raynard ran the leather through his fingers as he turned his complete attention to the fledgling’s back. Ori’s shoulders were a little broader than they’d been when Raynard had first met him—the product of all the work he’d done setting the house in order, combined with frequent visits to the swimming pool. His collar formed a stark black line around his neck, screaming Raynard’s possession of him to anyone who was interested.
Raynard ran the whip over Ori’s skin as he stepped closer. A shiver raced through Ori, but it had nothing to do with fear. As Raynard looked down Ori’s body, the effect the prospect of a whipping had on him was obvious. Ori’s trousers weren’t tented in front of him because he was afraid.
Far more used to seeing Ori undressed than covered, Raynard itched to reach for Ori’s belt, to peel the fabric off and leave him standing naked at the whipping station. Raynard stepped away before he forgot all about the other men in the room and gave in to that temptation.
They might have seen Ori naked before, but that had been prior to Raynard collaring him. It wouldn’t happen again without a bloody good reason.
Raynard lifted his arm and flicked the leather against Ori’s back. Ori gasped as it connected for the first time. Raynard stepped forward and ran his hand across the mark the lash had left in its wake.
The whip had forced some heat into
Ori’s skin. A pale red line appeared as blood rushed to transport sensations around his body as quickly as it could.
Ori said nothing as Raynard stepped back, raised his hand and let the whip fall against him once more. No need for an inspection this time. Another flick of Raynard’s wrist, and the whip kissed Ori’s back a third time.
The whip Raynard had chosen was far from the harshest implement that had rested on the table, and he knew how to make it dance against a man’s back in just the way he wanted. Each lash landed perfectly, decorating Ori’s skin according to Raynard’s exact wishes.
The rest of the club ceased to exist. Other men might have flooded into the space to observe, but they were irrelevant. Ori’s ragged breaths filled Raynard’s world. He watched, enchanted, as Ori dropped his head back a little on each stroke, as if he was already struggling to keep his reactions in check.
Each touch of leather, each touch from his master, appeared to push more and more pleasure into Ori until he didn’t know how to contain it. His hands clenched into fists above his head. One hand fumbled at the opposite wrist.
Raynard let the whip drop to his side as he watched the fingers of Ori’s right hand wrapped around his left wrist. It was as close to his rest position as his bondage would allow. He was doing exactly what he was supposed to do when he didn’t know what to do with himself. Even then, Raynard sensed that his words were in Ori’s head, guiding everything he did.
Raynard moved closer to stand at Ori’s side. He rested his hand gently on Ori’s back, below all the whip marks.
“Look at me. Look at your master.”
Ori blinked open his eyes as he turned his head, his expression unfocused, clouded with pleasure.
Raynard held Ori’s gaze as he lifted his hand and stroked his fingers tenderly across the whip marks. They were still light, even after the repeated contact of the leather. Ori arched into his touch as far as he could. His eyes fell helplessly closed as more and more ecstasy seemed to rush into his body with each mark Raynard’s fingers passed over.
“Ten more,” Raynard said. “Count them out for me.”
He waited at Ori’s side until his fledgling found his voice.
“Yes, sir.”
The words were barely whispered, but the only person who needed to be able to hear them was easily close enough to catch each syllable.
Raynard stepped back. The whip cracked more loudly against Ori’s skin as Raynard let a little more of his strength fall against him.
“One, sir.”
A darker red line flourished over the lighter ones.
Raynard brought the lash down again.
“Two, sir.”
He only gave Ori just enough time to make his responses before he brought the whip down on him again and again. Each time, Ori counted it out for him. Three…four…five…six…
“Seven, sir.”
Another kiss of the leather. A little cry as the whip cracked against Ori’s skin, harder than before.
“Eight, sir.”
Every line of muscle in Ori’s body was taut and perfect. His head was tipped back toward the ceiling, but his voice was strong. He was breathless with pleasure, not pain.
Raynard snapped the leather again.
Ori whimpered. His head dropped forward. “Nine, sir.”
If he’d been a step farther away, Raynard wouldn’t have been able to make out the words.
One more. Raynard raised his arm higher, the whip cracked against Ori’s back, crossing several of the other dark lines he’d already painted on his skin.
A scream filled the air as Ori’s body jerked. He seemed to rise into the air, hanging from the cuffs. Then the world snapped back into focus. The yell faded away. Ori collapsed, limp within his bonds.
Tossing the whip aside, Raynard strode forward. Ori managed to drag his head up to look at him, even while he wasn’t quite capable of supporting himself on his own feet. He licked his lips and swallowed rapidly as he tried to find his words. “Ten, sir.”
Raynard slid his hand into Ori’s hair as he tugged him forward, just far enough to lean his head on his master’s shoulder. “Good boy.”
Ori dragged a satisfied breath into his body as he heard the whispered praise.
He trembled slightly as Raynard slid another hand around his waist and encouraged him to rest more of his weight against his master’s body. Despite Raynard’s coaxing, Ori he stayed stiff, holding himself slightly away from Raynard in a way he hadn’t done since he’d first come to Raynard’s bed.
“Hush,” Raynard whispered to him. He pressed a kiss against the top of his head. “I’ve got you.” Even if they did have an audience…
Another second of hesitation, and Ori relaxed against him. He rubbed his head tenderly against Raynard’s shoulder, nuzzling against him in an effort to get even closer than was physically possible.
“That’s right,” Raynard whispered to him.
As he stroked his fingers through Ori’s hair, part of Raynard wanted to look up, to meet the eyes of all the men around them and stare them down one by one, to mark his territory and scream his ownership of the man in his arms.
He resisted the urge. They could be dealt with at any time. Raynard kept his attention firmly on Ori. Some things were too important to be put off until a later date. Ori needed his master right then, and Raynard was no more able to deny his submissive whatever he needed, than Ori was capable of disobeying his master.
Raynard smiled softly against the top of his fledgling’s head. “Good boy.”
Chapter Nine
Ori arched lazily against the lumpy mattress. With his eyes closed and his mind lost in memories, he was almost willing to swear that he could feel the soft cotton sheet beneath him rubbing against the whip marks on his back.
Of course, the marks were actually long gone. They’d faded slowly, but they hadn’t been able to last forever. Ori sighed sleepily to himself as he turned onto his side. The breeze from the open balcony window caressed his bare skin as he lifted his hand to his neck and traced the line of his collar—a mark that would never fade.
It was getting darker. Raynard would be home soon. Ori rolled his shoulders, stretching his aching muscles, before snuggling back into the little nest his blankets had formed around him. His eyes dropped closed, only to snap open when he heard the fluttering of wings on the balcony. Ori barely had time to blink before Raynard was in his human form and striding through the big open windows.
Ori tried to scramble off the mattress and onto his feet; he failed. He didn’t even have time to sit up before Raynard was there, his lips on Ori’s mouth, his body covering Ori’s smaller frame as he pushed him down onto the mattress.
Wrapping his hands tightly around Ori’s wrists, Raynard pinned his arms down on either side of his head.
Ori managed a brief “I…” before his words were swallowed by the kiss. He smiled against his master’s mouth. Words were wasted when Raynard had just finished stretching his wings; far better to simply part his lips and offer himself freely to his master.
Raynard was already hard. His erection slid against Ori’s skin as he pressed him down more firmly against the sheet. Ori squirmed and tried to pull his legs back. It wasn’t easy when Raynard didn’t seem capable of understanding what he was trying to do.
For the first time, Raynard didn’t appear to be holding anything back. There was no attempt to gentle his hold on Ori, no checking to see if Ori was able to keep up with his demands.
Raynard’s teeth nipped at Ori’s lips, harsh and demanding, pulling a whimper from him as he finally managed to draw his knees back. Raynard’s shaft nudged against his already slicked hole. He immediately pushed into him. No hesitation, no doubt of his absolute right to thrust his cock deep inside Ori whenever he wanted.
The lube Ori had applied while Raynard was out stretching his wings only eased Raynard’s way so much. Ori arched against the sheet, his hands clenching into fists abov
e Raynard’s grip on him, even as he tilted his hips back and tried to spread himself wider and offer himself to his master more readily.
Raynard barely stilled inside him before he pulled away, and thrust back into his hole. Ori’s prostate sung out as Raynard pounded into him again and again. The sudden stretch started to ease, and soon, there was nothing to take away the pleasure Raynard pushed into him with every movement.
Hard ever since Raynard had taken flight, Ori desperately tried to hold back. In the half-light, he saw Raynard staring down at him, naked possession flashing in his gaze.
Ori did his best to rock in time with Raynard’s movements, to clench around him, to do anything he could to make it perfect for his master. But part of him knew that wasn’t really required. All Ori had to do was be there, waiting and willing, when his master came back. All he had to do in order for Raynard to be pleased with him was to be the kind of avian who loved it when his master let the hawk side of himself loose and forgot his human manners.
All Ori had to do was love being owned, and marked, and possessed by his master. Nothing Raynard could ask of him would ever be easier.
Pure bliss shone in Raynard’s gaze as he stared down at him. And that was the moment when Ori realised that Raynard truly felt free to be who he was with him, just as Ori felt safe to be himself with his master.
Raynard thrust into him again, rough and seemingly determined to claim a bit of Ori’s soul with every movement.
Ori gasped. He pulled at Raynard’s hold on him, just for the joy of feeling Raynard’s grip tighten around his skin. Somehow, he knew Raynard would understand, that he wouldn’t think he truly wanted to get away from him. He was safe in the knowledge that Raynard would never actually release him no matter how hard he struggled. There was no room for begging when his master was in this mood. No room for disobedience either.
