Bound and Bent: Ten Tales of Serving Him

by Jessi Bond, Skye Eagleday, Cherry Dare, Mike Ox, Rod Mandelli, Audrey Ellen Grace, Jere Haken, Mandoline Creme, Gia Vanna

  "Get ready for bed, boys," Sam says. "It's lights out in ten minutes."

  Donnie and I haven't had a sleepover in years. It's oddly exciting to stand beside him in front of the sink as we brush our teeth and wash our faces. He sticks his tongue out and inspects it in the mirror, lamenting that the piercing has almost already closed completely up. Then he chatters on happily about anything and everything like he'll never get another chance to talk to me. Despite, or perhaps because of, the lingering sting in my ass, I can't stop smiling.

  "Okay, boys," Sam says just as we've entered Donnie's room. "Into bed with you."

  "Um, I can sleep on the floor," I offer.

  "You'll sleep in the bed," Sam says matter-of-factly as he turns down the covers. "There's plenty of room for two."

  Donnie hops in and slides underneath the covers. I crawl in beside him.

  "Flip over," Sam orders.

  "Huh?" I say, watching Donnie do just that.

  Sam slips Donnie's boxers down. His bottom is still very red, but that doesn't stop Sam from giving it several healthy slaps. Donnie squirms and giggles.

  "Your turn," Sam says to me.

  Donnie is watching me expectantly, so I obediently turn over on my stomach. I mash my face into the pillow as I feel Sam slip my pajama pants down just below my butt. He gives me the same brisk spanking he's just given my best friend. It definitely rekindles the fire, but I don't mind.

  "There," Sam says.

  He fixes my pants and Donnie's and then he kisses each of us on the forehead. He tells us goodnight and leaves the room with a dire warning that we are to be sleeping, not talking and laughing. Donnie watches him go, and then waits approximately three seconds before speaking.

  "You should have told me," he says.

  "This is too weird," I mumble.

  "Yeah," he says. "Fun though, huh?"

  "I guess."

  "You liked it!" he accuses.

  "Shh!" I hiss. "You're gonna get us in trouble."

  "You liked it!" he repeats in a whisper.

  "Did not."

  "Did too."

  "Did not."

  "This says otherwise."

  Donnie reaches for my crotch, but I pull away and slug him playfully in the arm. He yelps and threatens to tell.

  "Boys!" Sam yells from the other room.

  I wait approximately three seconds, and then I have to stifle a laugh.

  "Okay," I whisper. "Maybe I did like it. But I'm sorry you got in trouble."

  "You can make it up to me," he suggests coyly.

  "Oh, God... What?" I ask suspiciously.

  He takes my hand and holds it against his boxers. I guess I was wrong. Maybe he does like being spanked after all. He's as hard as I've ever been while thinking about him getting it. I'm sort of impressed. I stroke him gently through his underwear, and he folds his arms behind his head and sighs contentedly while I rub.

  "This is good," he says. "But I'm not sure it's enough to make it up to me. Maybe in a couple weeks, you can take me to get my nipple pierced instead."

  I remove my hand from his body and roll over, but he grabs me and puts it back.

  "I'm kidding!" he says. "I'm kidding."

  I slip my fingers inside his underwear so I can stroke bare flesh. Donnie moans with pleasure.

  "Still," he murmurs, "it is my nipple. I should be able to get it pierced if I want to..."

  ***

  If you enjoyed this read, check out another hot tale from Jere:

  Spanks for Nothing: Undeserved Discipline

  Three standalone short stories featuring submissive boys being disciplined by their doms. While the stories are unrelated, they each share a common theme: misunderstandings that result in hard M/m punishment spankings.

  Implements used include hand, leather strap, hairbrush, and wooden spoon. Does not contain sex. All characters are 18+. Total word count 7700. To be enjoyed by adults only!

  More from Jere:

  More Books

  Email

  Servicing the CEO

  Book 1 of the CEO Series

  Mandoline Creme

  Copyright 2013 Mandoline Creme

  Miles has never had it easy, but for once, things seem to be going his way. He's working at his dream job, even if his co-workers mistreat him, and he has an apartment in the big city, though it costs him a fortune.

  Things are looking up for certain.

  That is, until he runs into his boss, and accidentally offends the powerful man. Becoming the target of someone so domineering, so controlling, it's not a situation Miles ever imagined. But now, his boss is blackmailing him, asking him to do things he'd never try otherwise.

  Worse, as much as he hates it all, he's starting to like the sexual torture. His boss is far too good at making him groan and squeal.

  Can Miles resist crumbling in the hands of a man like Deane Corvac, someone so set on making the young designer break and beg on his knees?

  Servicing the CEO is 10,600 words of first time gay encounters, domination, remote controlled toys in public, and more.

  ***

  The stack of papers in my arms was heavy, but it was the shame that weighed on me the most.

  A brand new job, a new start, and still, I'm letting people push me around.

  Tapping my shoe in front of the elevator, my arms squeezed the documents hard, frustration making my whole body tight, an elastic waiting to snap. I only had myself to blame, I knew that. My whole life, I'd had trouble standing up for myself. Each time I came across a new milestone, my promise to myself was that it would be different this time. This time, I'd grow a backbone, stop being a dog to my colleagues.

  And now, here I am, agreeing to be the errand boy for my team, stuff I thought I'd never endure again.

  Grumbling, slipping into the elevator as the doors parted, I made the ride down to the first floor in glowering silence. Stand up for yourself, Miles, come on. What's the point of moving up a ladder if you always let someone push you down to the bottom rung again?

  Fresh out of design school, I'd done my internship at a smaller, less impressive company than this one. Corvac Inc. was stylish, modern, exactly where I had hoped to be someday. When I'd gotten hired just three days back, my heart had been swelling, my pride and ego climbing to the top.

  Then, the instant my team had looked at me, seen a young man who was eager to prove himself, they'd smiled those terrible, condescending smiles, and begun handing me their paperwork.

  So, here I am, I thought, striding from the elevator, my course a brisk walk to the production room. Here I am, handing off junk, doing busy work, and repeating the cycle all over again. I'm worthless.

  Sorting the papers into their boxes quickly, I dusted my palms off, catching a glimpse of my watch. It was already noon, my mood was bitter, the logical solution was to get some lunch and cool off. Last thing I need is to snap at my teammates. Though, I mused, maybe they would take me seriously, if I did.

  The line was long in the building cafeteria, making me regret my decision to eat there. I felt foolish, like I'd wasted my whole morning doing nothing of substance, then half my lunch standing around waiting behind people who took too long to order a sandwich or a salad.

  Whatever, it's my turn next, I'll deal with it. What choice do I have? Stepping forward, my mouth opened, ready to state exactly what I wanted to eat.

  Then he appeared.

  Sharp, dark, the man cut in front of me without even a glance, his hard eyes fixed on the woman behind the register. I caught a flash of sharp, perfect pearl teeth as he grinned. This was a man who meant business, a man who was used to getting his way. He didn't look at me, didn't consider me. I was nothing to him.

  It was the last straw.

  "Excuse me," I snapped, interrupting him as he started to explain his order. "I was here first, if you don't mind."

  Slowly, more patient than molasses, the stranger shifted his elegant, lean body, laying eyes that were colder than ice, darker than ink,
on my flustered face. Whoever he was, this man was undeniably handsome, someone blessed with good looks, a sense of power I could read just from his stance.

  Who the hell is this guy?

  "I'm sorry," he purred, squinting down at me dubiously. "What did you say to me?"

  "I said," my voice cracked, "that I was here first. You cut in line."

  "Is this elementary school, then?" He chuckled, tilting his head, a fine eyebrow arching. He was having fun with me, I hated it. My blood was already pounding like hot magma.

  Behind us, the line of people mumbled, someone snickering under their breath. "With how you're acting like a spoiled child, maybe it is," I said. The amusement, the mocking chuckles, they turned to heavy silence. The vibe around me was one of intense disbelief; anxiety, even fear. Oh god, what's with everyone?

  The man's smirk melted, becoming a dubious, cold line. "Spoiled, you say?" Explaining my rush of fear would have been difficult, it only grew as he sized me up; slow, considering. "What's your name?" He asked, hardly a question, more of a demand.

  As uncomfortable as I was, even with the air of unease surrounding me, this man had been the last rung at the long end of a ladder I'd been slowly falling down. I couldn't seem to bite my tongue and hold back. "Isn't it polite to introduce yourself first?" My tone was low, flat. Somehow, it didn't tremble like my knees. Someone gasped, making my neck hair prickle. What the hell is going on with everyone?

  He stepped forward, a simple motion, but poignant. It put him so near me, I could see the slight stubble on his otherwise smooth jaw. "You really don't know who I am?"

  "No," I scowled, a cold spike growing in my belly. "No, I don't."

  "A shame," he mused, "though that makes more sense." He paused, a moment where normally someone would extend a hand, but he did no such thing. "I'm Deane Corvac."

  Deane... Corvac? I could have fainted right there, I thought I'd be sick, at least. The son of the owner of Corvac Inc. The CEO, my boss. Fuck me, I'm done for. Forcing a twitching smile, my hand lifted, slick from nerves. "Oh, uh, h--how nice to meet you. I'm Miles, uh, Miles Fillert."

  He smiled, an awful sight, promising me nothing good would come of this meeting. "Miles, how... nice to meet you. There seems to have been a misunderstanding here."

  "Um, yes, quite--"

  "You," he cut me off, "seem to have confused yourself as a man of importance. Someone who apparently thinks they don't need to know their place."

  "Oh, no, I-- "

  But he wouldn't allow me a word, his nose almost touching mine as he leaned in. Deane's voice was hot, searing me at my core. "Should I tell my father he hired someone so tactless? Someone who'd dare to mistake his social standing so publicly?"

  Licking my lips, I shot a quick look around, realizing the whole cafeteria was watching us now. "No," I pleaded, hating the fear in my tone. "Please, sir, it was an accident. You can... you can go ahead, uh, order your lunch. In fact, I'll just go, I'll get some food elsewhere." Eager to leave, to escape, I moved to step backwards. His hand, quick as a viper, caught my tie, choking me enough to stop my retreat.

  "Oh, no," he whispered, lowering his eyebrows calmly. "Don't act like you're allowing me to do anything here. I know I can go before you, that's no longer what this is about."

  "It's not?" I asked, stunned.

  "It's not," he repeated, smiling crookedly.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, my face warm from the awkward situation, I parted my lips hesitantly. "Then... what's this about?"

  Deane tilted his head, seeming to contemplate if he should tell me. Instead, he let me go, causing me to stumble with the abrupt freedom. Adjusting my tie, watching him warily, I waited for what he would do next.

  Smirking, the man half-turned away from me, but his cold eyes still burned on mine. "You'll find out, just not right now. Go on, leave." Then, cheerful and charming, he rested his gaze on the woman behind the register, acting like a different person entirely. "Hello there, love. Could I get the tarragon chicken, please?"

  Gawking, not knowing what else to do, I backed away on stiff legs. I knew that every eye was on me, every eye but Deane's, at least. Flushed red from shame, from being a spectacle, I fled the room as quickly as I possibly could.

  ***

  Slumped at my desk over an hour later, hunched and hiding in my own private bubble of despair, I had only one thought on my mind.

  I fucked up. I fucked up so badly.

  How could I not have known that was Deane Corvac? It was true, I'd never met him or even imagined I'd have a need to anytime soon, but it seemed such a rookie mistake. His father's face was plastered all over, in hindsight, I was sure I'd seen Deane on the front of Esquire or GQ magazine.

  You'd think they would have given me an orientation when I was hired, something to just inform me who was who here. I guess they assumed I'd know... or worse, that it wouldn't matter.

  Bitter, I brushed my hair from my forehead, forcing myself to type into my computer. I was sure there would be rumors going around about my confrontation soon, if not already. The last thing I needed was to be caught slacking off on top of everything.

  Navigating to my email, I was surprised to find I actually had a new message. Glancing at the sender, puzzling over the vague subject line that simply said 'regarding our conversation', my eyes found the first warning that my mistake that day would have long lasting effects.

  The email it was sent from... Dcorvac... who is...

  Deane. The CEO had actually sent me a message using his company email address. It was bold, and it was frightening. What could he possibly want from me, what does he mean, our conversation earlier? On instinct, I opened the message, regretting it instantly.

  The writing was short, blunt, professional. It read, 'Miles, in regards to our discussion earlier, and your confusion over what I was trying to get across, I'd like to see you in my office. Clarifying the topic is very important to me. See me immediately.' The footer had Deane's full name, his title, everything, written out in an automated display of his importance. But that didn't matter.

  He wants to see me in his office. Oh god, am I about to get fired?

  Noticing I was shaking, I tried to steady my nerves. The clammy skin on the back of my neck was distracting, my hand brushing at it as I made myself stand. I wanted nothing more than to avoid all of this, yet it was clear I didn't have many options. The company email wasn't private, if they investigated they would see Deane had told me to go to his office. If he said I hadn't, that I'd never shown up, firing me for insubordination wouldn't have raised an eyebrow.

  Stop being paranoid, this can't be about getting fired. It just can't! Calm down.

  Inhaling deeply, adjusting my perfectly ironed shirt, I strode away from my cubicle; a gallows style walk to the elevator. As I did, I felt the eyes on me, wondered what they were all thinking. Surely, they'd forget about my lunch-time embarrassment soon, wouldn't they?

  When the doors opened, dinging sharply, I jumped. I'm way too on edge. This isn't a huge deal, he's only one of the most important men in the building. Nope, not a thing to worry about at all. My own sarcasm made me smile sourly as I exited onto the top floor. Here, the walls were almost all windows, the view of New York astounding while I strolled down the corridor. At the end, I found a circular room, a pretty young woman sitting at the most modern of desks.

  "How may I help you?" She chirped, tilting her head, blonde hair flipping.

  "Um, I'm supposed to see Mr. Corvac."

  "Ah, yes." Her manicured fingers found a button by her phone. "Mr. Corvac? Miles Fillert is here to see you."

  The voice that came through was calm, mechanical, it still sent a chill to my bones. "Send him in."

  With a bright smile, the secretary motioned me towards the doors. I did my best to force a pleasant expression, legs wooden as they took me towards the man I had no desire to meet. The handles were warm, the doors parting smooth as silk. Inside, the office was lit up from the wide, almost wall-spann
ing windows, the view beautiful. It was the sort of place that screamed money, power, opulence.

  Deane Corvac stood there in the middle of it all.

  Clearing my throat, I approached, shutting the doors gently behind me. "H--hello, Mr. Corvac. You wanted to see me?"

  "Indeed," he answered, studying me a long moment. "You made good time, I'm glad you're taking this as seriously as I am."

  "Taking... what seriously, sir?" My shoes crushed against the soft rug, closing the gap between us reluctantly. As I got within a few feet, Deane turned away, moving to stand by the window beside his desk.

  "All of this. Your position in the company, my distaste for how you treated me earlier. Are you aware of the concept of a blacklist, Miles?"

  The chilling sensation that ran across my skin reminded me of frosted spiders. "I'm sorry?"

  "A blacklist," he said again, glancing at me casually over his shoulder. Behind his head, the sun was casting hard shadows across his angled features. "You've heard of it, yes?"

  "Of course." The words felt stale in my mouth. "Are you... are you trying to threaten me?"

  "I'm hardly trying," Deane chuckled, facing away once more. "It must be pretty clear. I'm powerful enough to enforce it so you'll never find any work in this city again. Granted, you could move away, I admit my pull only extends so far. Would you do that, move away?"

  Move away... impossible, after everything I've done to get here? To start working my way towards my dream job? The money put into college... "No," I hissed, gritting my teeth. "Of course not."

  Shrugging, he lifted a hand, touching the window in front of him gently. I could see his reflection in the glass; emotionless, marble features. "You have one choice in this situation, Miles. Agree to listen to me, to obey me entirely. Whatever I demand, it goes without saying that you'll do it."

  My jaw was hanging open, but I didn't notice. Not until Deane turned, squinting at me in that unnerving way of his. Gently, his hand moved, touching my chin and pressing it closed. His skin on my own caused me to jerk away, cheeks burning hot as I returned to my senses in a rush. "You expect me to do anything you say, just like that?"