by A. M. Arthur
“Colt, hello,” Avery says. His voice spreads over Colt’s skin like butter on a hot steak. “Please, come inside.”
“Hi, thanks.” Not a proper greeting. “Thank you.”
He steps inside, expecting a typical furnished apartment. Instead, the foyer is empty except for bare coat hooks on the wall, probably for their winter rainy season. It’s late summer, so the caress of air conditioning helps soothe his overheated skin. Beyond is an open kitchen/living area with almost nothing in it except a small folding table and two chairs.
Some sort of surprise must be on his face, because Avery chuckles. “I don’t live here,” he says. “I keep my personal life as separate from this work as possible to avoid potential conflicts.”
“Conflicts with your day job?” Yes, Colt’s fishing a bit.
Avery’s eyes flicker. “Day job, and it prevents clients from getting too personal. This is an arrangement, not a relationship.”
“Understood.” Colt glances at the other doors. One is open and clearly a bathroom. The other is shut, probably hiding the playroom. “Is it too personal to ask what you do for a living?”
“A little personal, but I’m a history professor, specializing in the American West.”
“Wow, that’s cool.” Colt barely graduated high school, and he’s taking up with a freaking professor? Way to make a guy feel inferior.
“Please, come sit.” Avery sweeps a slim hand toward the table and chairs. “May I offer you something to drink? I have bottled water, as well as various soda options.”
“Water’s fine, thank you.”
Colt settles in one of the chairs, noting a manila folder and a pen on the table. Avery joins him moments later with two chilled bottles of water, and he surprises Colt by twisting the cap loose before handing Colt his. Being taken care of before he even signs a contract.
“Have you ever contracted with a Dom before?” Avery asks.
“No, I’ve just played a bit at clubs.” Which seemed safe enough at first. Colt is the idiot who went home with a guy he barely knew.
Avery opens the folder and slides two sheets of paper toward him. “This is a pretty standard contract, stating our arrangement. We’ll also go over this list of activities. There are three check boxes. The first is things you agree to do, the second things you aren’t sure of yet but can be negotiated later, and third is hard limits. My own hard limits are on my website, but they’re also relisted here.”
Colt glances where Avery points. Watersports, scat play, blood play, and fire play. “I am totally fine with not doing any of those things.” Colt needed to define scat play before attending this meeting, and he will never be able to scrub those search images from his brain.
“Okay, then let’s go down the list and see what you enjoy and maybe aren’t sure about yet.”
Some of the basic firsts are easy to tick off. Restraints, harnesses, whips, floggers, spanking, blindfolds, stuff Colt knows he likes. He hesitates at gagging, though, skin crawling, mind trying to flash back to his last disastrous BDSM affair.
“Colt?” Avery gently squeezes his wrist. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m not sure about gagging. If it’s a hard limit or not.”
“Can you tell me why? You look upset.” He squeezes a bit more firmly. “Is it about the bad experience you had?”
Colt nods, because a lump in his throat won’t let him speak.
“Have you talked to your friends about it?”
He shakes no.
“Will you tell me about it? It will help me know what to avoid with you, if something may trigger you.”
Colt doesn’t want to admit to his own idiocy, but Avery’s right. And maybe finally telling someone will chase the memories away and let him sleep better at night. “I used to go to a club downtown that had private rooms.” A club full of hot, sexy men willing to tie up a blond, muscular guy like Colt. “Always seemed smarter to play there, you know, so I did. Sometimes repeats, usually new guys, because I wasn’t really finding what I wanted. A few of them really got me into subspace, and they were guys I’d go back to.”
“Doms aren’t one size fits all,” Avery says. “And club play isn’t for everyone. There is an element of complete trust that a sub has to feel to really let go with a Dom. To trust their Dom to get them there without seriously hurting them.”
“Yeah, believe me, I know that now.” Colt pulls his hand away from Avery’s grounding touch so he can clench them together in his lap. “I met this new guy who called himself Sebastian. We chatted a few times over drinks at the club, but never did a scene together there. He was charming, told stories of how he’d left so many disappointed subs behind after moving here from Atlanta. After a couple weeks of passing each other by, Sebastian invited me back to his place to play.”
Avery shifts in his seat.
Colt doesn’t look up. He’s never told anyone about Sebastian before, not even his two best friends, so why is he confiding in a stranger?
Avery has probably seen and heard it all. He won’t judge me.
“Sebastian had a small playroom at his house, out in Pomona. Clean, good setup. We negotiated the scene, which was a basic tie up and flog scene, that would end with him fucking me. Set up safewords. And it was good. I came like a rocket, so I agreed to see him again the following weekend. He was a little rougher the second time, and I had to safeword once. The fact that he didn’t stop right away, though, should have been a big fucking clue.”
“It isn’t always easy to judge a person’s intentions,” Avery says softly.
Colt glances up, surprised to see a mixture of concern and anger in Avery’s dark eyes. The concern makes sense, but who’s he angry at? Probably Colt for walking into a bad situation in the first place.
“Like an idiot, I said yes to a third scene a few nights later,” Colt continues, his stomach twisting up tight as old memories washed over him. Anticipation of the scene and the desperate fear that came later. “Sebastian asked if I was up for wearing a gag for the scene. Said he liked the sound of muffled shouts, so I figured why not. The position he tied me into was a little uncomfortable, and it got worse the longer I stayed like that. Started like usual, with a butt plug and flogging that got more aggressive. And maybe it was the gag, but I was having trouble going under, really feeling the exquisite burn that leads to subspace. And when it really started to hurt, I couldn’t safeword, because I couldn’t fucking speak.”
Avery’s face goes scarlet, and he grips the edge of the table. Colt’s own face burns with shame. Might as well finish and show Avery what an all-star fool Colt is.
“After a while of me struggling, he removes the butt plug, and I’m so glad the whipping is over, I don’t care if he fucks me. But he’s super rough, just plowing me until he comes. I wasn’t even hard anymore, and it burned when he tried to jerk me. When the asshole finally took the gag out, I cussed him up one side and down the other, until he realized how badly he’d hurt me. He untied me, tried to put lotion on me, but once I had some fucking feeling in my arms and legs, I punched him right in the mouth.”
“I’d have kicked him in the junk for good measure.” Avery snarls. The venom in his voice catches Colt off guard. “You never, ever take away a sub’s ability to safeword. Not ever.”
Colt blinks. “I couldn’t speak. How do Doms gag someone in a scene and still let him safeword?”
“By giving the sub a string, or tissue, or something else to hold. If they drop it, it’s a signal to stop and talk about what’s going on.”
“Oh.” More shame washes over Colt for not knowing that basic thing. “You must think I’m an idiot.”
“Hardly.” Avery leans over the table, his expression more schooled. “You put your trust in a man who didn’t deserve it, and who violated the Dom/sub contract by not giving you something to hold. You should have been able to halt the sce
ne once it hurt too much to bear, and he withheld that power from you.” Avery makes a distressed noise. “I swear, if I knew where he was, I’d give him a piece of my mind.”
Colt has no doubt Avery would. The man seems quiet and buttoned up, but Colt sees hints of a fiery temper under that soft exterior.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Colt, I mean it.” Avery reaches out, and Colt doesn’t hesitate in clasping his hand. Warmth soothes up his arm and down Colt’s spine, and he doesn’t think too hard about why. “And I will completely understand if you want to categorize gags as a hard limit.”
He hesitates to say yes. At first, the idea of being gagged appealed to Colt, but he did it with the wrong Dom. Instead of saying no, he checks the center box. Something he might want to try later. Maybe Avery can help Colt over his fear of having his voice taken away. His power stripped away.
Colt looks at their still-joined hands and allows himself to hope…
CHAPTER FIVE
Avery hadn’t been back in his motel room long enough to take his shoes off before his cell rang. He pulled it from his back pocket, fully expecting to see a local unknown number for Colt, and his hand jolted when Violet’s name lit the screen. They didn’t have any sort of regular call schedule, but the timing of this call with having just fucked Colt the night before unnerved him.
“Mom, hi,” Avery said.
“Hi, kiddo, how are you?” Her cigarette-raspy voice was even, like she was speaking to a bank teller instead of her adult son.
And for the first time in a while, her use of kiddo rankled. He was thirty-three and hadn’t been a kid in a very long time. “I’m well, thank you. You just caught me returning from the ghost town wedding.”
“How did that go? Bride and groom happy as clams?”
“They are, and they’re well on their way to a honeymoon in Lake Tahoe.”
“Sounds exquisite. I don’t suppose you brought a date to the wedding? Any nice girls up in that tiny town you’re staying in?”
Avery swallowed a groan. “Not single ones, no.”
Despite being a Domme in a full-time D/s relationship, and being extremely open about sexual escapades, Violet Hendrix had a homophobic streak that irritated Avery down to his bones. She refused to accept that his relationship with Colt had been anything other than a temporary infatuation, no matter what Avery said. It had strained their relationship for a long time, even after Avery and Colt broke up.
“Well, maybe you’ll have better luck when you leave that dusty old place and go back to the city,” Violet said.
“I like this dusty old place. It’s quiet. Gives me time to work on my PhD.”
Violet laughed. “My little overachiever.”
Avery rolled his eyes. “I’m not dating, I like my current job, and while I could do without the deer head in my motel room, I’m happy. How are you and Mike?”
“Wonderful. We’re doing another show next weekend out in Las Vegas.” Mike was Violet’s husband and sub, and Avery’s stepfather, and they frequently traveled to put on demonstrations at leather conventions and kink clubs.
“Congrats on the gig.” Avery couldn’t imagine doing a scene in front of an audience—another reason he preferred to avoid clubs. For him, scenes were personal and private, and about the two people in them.
But he also understood that Violet and Mike liked to show people that BDSM wasn’t a perverted, dangerous lifestyle. They liked to educate about the basic tenets of Safe, Sane and Consensual. Avery was an educator, too, but of a vastly different sort.
“So, my reason for calling,” Violet said, because she always had a specific reason to check in. “Nana and Pappy’s sixtieth wedding anniversary is coming up in a few months and Mike’s family is throwing them a big party, making it like a family reunion. Save the date, okay?”
Avery tried to place the date she’d given him on a mental calendar. Shouldn’t interfere with any other plans. “I can be there. In San Diego, correct?”
“Of course.”
His stepdad Mike’s parents had become Nana and Pappy to Avery the minute he first met them, a very loving, garrulous couple. Avery had been swept away by their stories of both of them serving in the Korean Conflict and meeting at a MASH unit. Falling in love through letters, before tracking each other down in the States.
A beautiful love story, and since Avery had no biological grandparents in his life—Violet’s own parents disowned her because of her “lifestyle”—he’d embraced the elderly couple.
“Do you need me to do anything for the party?” Avery asked.
“Nope, we’ve got it covered. You just show up, preferably with a date on your arm.”
“I’m too busy to date.” Not entirely true, but it was the safest argument to make for being single and not being bothered by it at all. Asexual or not, he simply had no desire to date or be part of a couple. The only time he’d wanted more was with Colt. No one else made Avery feel complete.
He thought back to last night’s incendiary encounter and shivered.
“Anyway, you and Mike have a safe trip to Vegas, okay?” Avery said, hoping to end the conversation.
“Oh, we will. Have fun in your ghost town.”
They hung up, and Avery flopped face-first onto the bed. The motel bed wasn’t much more comfortable than the cot at the guesthouse, but it was twice as big, and Avery was an active sleeper. Rolling around, jumbling sheets. Colt always used to chide him about stealing the covers.
He glanced at his dark phone, a little surprised Colt hadn’t called him yet. Avery had put that power into Colt’s hands, allowing him to be the one to reach out, because Colt had a hard time asking for help. Asking for things in his life, period, outside the bedroom. Colt had been very clear he was interested in getting Sir back in his life, and Avery still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d been lonely, sure, and deep down he missed practicing BDSM. Colt was offering Avery a chance to get something he needed without the added complication of dating again.
After all, Avery was leaving in a few weeks and he wasn’t sure he trusted in Colt’s ability to maintain a long-distance relationship. A few weeks of great sex would help them get this out of their systems, and then they’d go back to their regular lives.
A knock on his door jolted Avery off the bed. No way had Colt followed him down from the ranch. Right?
He pulled it open, surprised to see the motel owner standing on his doorstep. Mitch Everly had the weathered look of a man used to hard work and long days, and he was clutching a newsboy hat in both hands.
“Mr. Everly,” Avery said. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got some mighty bad news, Mr. Hendrix, mighty bad,” Everly replied. “One of the rooms down the way has bedbugs, you see, and now we’ve got to treat the whole motel, except we can’t afford to do it all at once, and golly this is hard, seeing as how long you’ve been here—”
“You need me to vacate the premises,” Avery said, a pit forming in his stomach. This was the only motel in town, and he was here for another month.
“I’m so sorry, but I do. I know it’s short notice, but we don’t want to risk guests getting their stuff infested and taking it home, you know? We gotta treat everything.”
Avery’s skin crawled at the idea of sleeping with bedbugs, but he hadn’t noticed any bites or itching. “I understand.”
“I’ll talk to Mack, too, seeing as he booked the room for another month yet. See about a refund.”
A refund of funds the poor man probably desperately needed for the job of treating his motel, or had likely already spent. Those sobering thoughts tempered Avery’s frustration over the situation.
“I can make some calls on your behalf, if you like,” Everly said. “See about someone in town who might have a room to rent?”
“That’s very generous of you, thank you. But if you prefe
r, I can call Mack and explain on your behalf. He’s a fair man.” And maybe I can convince him not to ask for a refund.
Everly practically vibrated with anxiety over the situation. “That would be just fine, but you tell him to call if he has questions or concerns.”
“I’ll do that. I’ll also drop my room key by the office once I know where I’m going.”
“Good man. Sure am sorry about this.”
“I know. Good luck, Mr. Everly.”
Avery closed the door and a riot of butterflies burst loose in his stomach. This was not part of the plan. He liked knowing what was going to happen and when, and he’d been told he had a place to stay while he worked on the ghost town restoration. This wasn’t anyone’s fault, not really, but it left Avery on edge and unsettled.
He called Mack.
“Hey, man,” Mack said, picking up on the second ring. “You forget something here at the ranch?”
“No, this unfortunately is bad news,” Avery replied.
“Hell, don’t tell me someone offered you a better job and is stealing you away from me.”
Avery smiled at the concern in Mack’s voice. He loved knowing Mack valued his work and input. “No, I will always complete a job I agree to. This is about accommodations.” He filled Mack in on the problem.
Mack let out a low whistle. Someone on his end, probably Wes, asked what was wrong. “Gonna switch you to speaker, okay? It’s just me, Wes and Arthur in the room.”
“Okay.”
Avery repeated his problem.
“Damn,” Arthur said. “That’s gonna hit Mitch hard. He’s already one small disaster from closing that place.”
“That was my assessment, as well,” Avery replied. “He was visibly upset about it, and he was going to call you directly about this, Mack, but I volunteered to break the news.”
Mack grunted. “This whole town is one small disaster from closing down. And bedbugs are nobody’s fault. I won’t go broke if I don’t get a refund on the room, but Mitch might.”
