Golden Boy Two-Volume Set

by Claire Thompson

  Johnny chewed appreciatively, his eyes locked on Eric’s. “I can sort of taste banana but it’s spicy. It’s really good.” He allowed Eric to feed him the rest of the pancake. After each bite Eric would touch Johnny’s lips, ostensibly wiping the sauce, but each touch of his fingers sent a sexual jolt through Johnny’s loins.

  Johnny was sorry when the pancake was gone and realized he was sporting a raging erection. Awkwardly he crossed his legs, pretending to a coolness he didn’t feel. “So we’re having Puerto Rican bananas for dinner?”

  Eric laughed. If he was aware of the sensual impact of feeding his lover, he gave no indication. “No, silly. This is just the appetizer. We’re having arroz con salchichas. That’s rice with a kind of sausage. It’s made with sofrito, which literally translates as ‘a little fry.’ It’s a combination of fresh vegetables and herbs, lightly fried together. There are as many sofritos as there are abuelas—grandmothers.” He smiled at Johnny. “My abuelita’s sofrito is a secret recipe I’ve been sworn never to reveal. But I can tell you its basis is onion and garlic fried in olive oil, with culantro, sweet red and green peppers, but the rest is secret.”

  “Culantro? Don’t you mean cilantro?”

  “Ah, so you do know some of the Spanish herbs. But no, I meant culantro. It’s kind of like cilantro, but more pungent. I hope you’ll like it. I made the recipe a little milder than I usually do, not sure of your taste for spicy food.”

  “Well, if it tastes anything like it smells, I’m going to love it.” Johnny smiled, feeling warm and happy inside. He’d come to Eric’s with a nervous knot of fear in his gut. The intensity and sweetness they’d shared the prior weekend had been contaminated with uncertainty and dulled by insecurity.

  Johnny finished his beer and set the bottle down. “I should have called you.”

  “You weren’t required to. It was just if you wanted to.”

  “I know. I did want to.”

  “So then?” Eric tilted his head.

  “I didn’t want to come across as too needy,” Johnny admitted frankly.

  Eric smiled ruefully, nodding. “It’s never easy is it? I have a confession to make too. I wanted to call you!”

  “Well, why didn’t you?” Johnny asked, smiling back.

  “I didn’t want to come across as too needy.” They both laughed, the tension now completely dispelled.

  Over a delicious meal they talked easily about their families, their childhoods, their favorite movies and books. After the meal they moved to the living room where Eric served homemade mango sherbet in small silver bowls.

  “Kneel here at my feet,” he instructed. Johnny had been about to sit down on the sofa next to Eric. He paused, his face questioning.

  “That’s right.” Eric nodded. “I want to feed you again. Once I fully own you, I might not allow you the use of your hands for hours, even days. Your body will belong completely to me.”

  Johnny knelt, his heart beating faster at these strange words. How quickly Eric could alter the mood! Johnny licked his lips, trying to process what Eric had just said. Once I fully own you. Your body will belong completely to me. Johnny’s mind rebelled—that was just a game, surely. Yet his body responded, his breathing more rapid, his cock again swelling in his jeans. Whatever he thought about all this, he clearly felt deeply aroused by the dominant words.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” Eric ordered. Johnny obeyed, wondering what was going to happen. Eric lifted a spoon of the bright yellow-orange sherbet to Johnny’s mouth. An explosion of tart-sweet mango and ice filled his senses. It was delicious. Eric slowly spooned the sherbet into Johnny’s open mouth. Instead of feeling reduced to a child or a helpless baby, Johnny found the experience extremely erotic.

  Eric took a taste of the sherbet as well, using the same spoon. His dark eyes locked with Johnny’s as he fed the younger man, who knelt up with his arms still locked behind his back.

  When the bowl was empty Eric leaned forward and kissed Johnny’s mouth, snaking his tongue in between Johnny’s willing lips. They kissed for a few moments until Eric pulled away, sitting back on the sofa. Johnny started to rise but was stopped by Eric’s firm hand on his shoulder. “No. Stay there. I like you on your knees.” Johnny felt himself blushing, but he obeyed, certain his erection was now clearly visible in his jeans.

  “You’re so hot,” Eric whispered, his eyes trained on Johnny’s crotch. He touched Johnny’s biceps, indicating Johnny should let his arms relax at his sides. “Come, I want you closer to me. Sit next to me.” He patted the sofa.

  Johnny obeyed, feeling a little shy, a little nervous and a lot turned-on. “So, Johnny,” Eric said, his voice deepening with authority. “Did you complete your assignment for the week?”

  “My assignment?” Johnny felt his blush deepen as he wondered how Eric knew what he’d done with the dildo. He’d inserted it each night when he had gotten home from work, leaving it in longer each time. Each time was easier.

  But Eric said, “Yes, your research on the ‘Net. I wanted you to explore the world of BDSM and submission online. To read up on it and develop more of a sense of what it entails.”

  “Oh!” Johnny said, blowing out a breath. “Yeah. You know, I’d done a little casual surfing after we’d seen each other at DeSoto’s. But this week I found a bunch of slave sites and I read a lot of testimonials and stuff about what it’s like to ‘live the lifestyle’, as they say, ‘24/7’. I don’t think I can do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Live the way they do. I mean, in a cage and stuff. All pierced and gagged all the time, peeing on newspaper in the kitchen. That was kind of a turnoff for me, to tell you the truth.”

  Eric laughed. “Don’t worry, that’s not in your future, at least not with me. I’m not interested in turning you into a kind of sexualized animal.” He leaned forward, his voice earnest. “For me, dominance and submission must always be a free exchange of power, gracefully given and lovingly accepted.”

  “Yes,” Johnny interjected, “I saw a lot about that too. Exchange of power. There’s even this society thing. They have this website called ‘Total Power Exchange’.”

  “Yeah, there are lots of D/s and BDSM societies, especially here in the city. Sad to say, way too many of them are really just a bunch of posers who get together to try to elevate their sexual perversions into something lofty and fine. Oh, and for some of them, it’s just an easy way for clueless losers to pick up submissive chicks who will do whatever they want.”

  Johnny laughed. “Well, is that what you consider BDSM then? A sexual perversion?”

  Eric responded seriously. “I think that’s how most people perceive it. I think that’s how many people in these so-called societies view themselves, and so they create these elitist groups to try and justify what they’re doing, when deep down they are ashamed.”

  Lightly he touched Johnny’s leg, his fingers drawing a line of desire up Johnny’s thigh. “To directly answer your question, no. I don’t regard dominance and submission, or the sexual and sensual demonstration of that as perversion. I regard it as something beautiful and passionate, as poetry in motion.”

  “Oh, Eric,” Johnny whispered as they leaned toward one another, their mouths touching, lightly at first but then with parted lips and dancing tongues. As they kissed Eric reached up, unbuttoning Johnny’s denim shirt. His hands smoothed the firm pecs, sending shivers of pleasure through Johnny’s body.

  “Stand up,” Eric commanded in a whisper, and Johnny obeyed. Through his mind rushed the image of another submissive—did he dare call himself that?—he’d learned of online. It was a woman named Kathleen, though she referred to herself always in lower case. She had been ordered by her Master to document the day-to-day process of her training as a sexual slave. When her Master told her to stand up, the training would begin.

  There were pictures with each journal entry. When she began the diary, she was rather heavyset, with a nervous sort of tension in her features. She would st
and looking, Johnny thought, rather miserable in her nudity, her image pasted up on their site for anyone who cared to see.

  Johnny had scrolled through the pages that marked the passage of days and weeks. Kathleen’s writing showed she had begun to feel more confident and sure of herself and her position. Even the daily pictures posted began to change. She appeared slimmer, but more than that, her carriage was different. Instead of slumping, as if she would conceal her nudity, she stood tall, even proud.

  What had really struck Johnny was this newfound peace in her expression. He had been fascinated, not only with her daily descriptions of the sexual torture and rituals she was trained to endure, but with this seeming transformation in her personality.

  He had been taken aback by the severity of her training—she would be kept caged in a small dog kennel when not being used by her Master. She would be beaten so severely with a flogger or cane that her back and ass were welted with bloody lines, newly slashed over the healing purple and black lines from days before. She was always kept naked and never permitted on the furniture. She was forced to use newspapers in the kitchen instead of the toilet.

  Yet, while he had been repelled by the severity of her treatment, he had been fascinated and even in awe of her behavior during the process. What he would have considered denigrating and beyond humiliating seemed to lift her up, to give her a grace and serenity she clearly hadn’t possessed before the training began.

  “What’s going through your mind right now, Johnny?” Johnny’s face must have reflected his musings.

  “I was thinking about this one slave girl online. She was called ‘slave kathleen’. She had this kind of blog thing going with pictures and descriptions of her daily training. She was what I was talking about when I said that stuff about peeing on newspapers in the kitchen. But the weird thing was, she was so into it. I mean, for her it wasn’t disgusting or denigrating. It was, what would be the word?” He paused a moment before saying, “Uplifting. Yeah, uplifting. I mean, she actually changed over the weeks and months into this different person. She went from this dumpy, nervous-looking girl to this serene, sensual woman. Instead of the torture and sexual humiliations beating her down as you might expect, they seemed to… I don’t know…”

  “To exalt her.”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Take off your shirt, Johnny.” Johnny did as he was asked, dropping the denim shirt on the floor beside him. “Take off your pants.” Johnny glanced at Eric who said, “Don’t look at me. Look straight ahead and do as you’re told.”

  Johnny’s cock strained as he unbuckled his pants and pulled them down his legs. “Boots too.” He kicked off his boots and socks and then finished removing his jeans. He stood in just his underwear, the practical white briefs hugging his ass, cock and balls.

  “Take off that hideous underwear and don’t let me see it again. We’ll get you some proper underwear tomorrow.”

  Johnny smiled a little. His entire wardrobe consisted of jeans, denim and flannel button-down shirts and T-shirts. He had one black suit, ill cut and straight off the rack, for funerals and weddings. He never thought about underwear, buying the cheapest package of white cotton briefs he could find, and not very often at that. He had noticed Eric’s cashmere and silk, his linen and fine, tailored clothing. He liked it on Eric, but didn’t consider himself in the same league.

  He was distracted from this line of thought as Eric reminded him, “I said take it off. Now.” Slowly Johnny peeled his briefs down. His cock sprang out, perpendicular to his belly, bobbing toward his lover as he turned to face him.

  “Eyes straight ahead,” Eric reminded him, his tone stern. As Johnny obeyed Eric said, “I think you’re ready, Johnny. I think you’re ready to begin your training in earnest. But I need to hear it from you. Do you agree, from this moment forward, to obey me, to accept me as your dominant lover, as your trainer, as your Master? To submit to me without reservation or hesitation?”

  Johnny mumbled something inaudible and Eric said quietly, “I didn’t hear you. Speak up. This is the moment we’ve been coming to. You can say no, you know. You’ll get dressed and we’ll go out to a movie or something.” Eric stood and moved in front of Johnny, reaching up to stroke his cheek. The tip of Johnny’s cock brushed Eric’s belt buckle. Johnny shivered a little but otherwise stayed still.

  “Remember, this isn’t for everyone. And it’s not a requirement for you to still be in my life. That’s why I wanted you to have this week to think and to do your own research and search your own soul. If we go forward, I want to be able to claim you completely. That means this must be one hundred percent consensual. If you have the slightest doubt, tell me now.”

  Johnny started to speak but his voice came out hoarse. He tried again, after clearing his throat. “I want it.”

  “You want what?”

  “I want to submit to you. Without reservation or hesitation.”

  Eric nodded slowly. He looked at Johnny’s flushed face, his eyes traveling slowly down Johnny’s torso to his still-erect cock. He smiled, his lips lifting in a sensuous curve. “I’m glad. I want you for my own.” He sat down on the sofa, leaving the younger man standing at attention. “So, tell me about the dildo, Johnny. Did you use it?”

  Johnny briefly considered lying. But he recalled something Eric had said that first weekend, when they had talked for hours about sensual submission. “Honesty,” Eric had said, “is paramount. It’s more important than sexual prowess, or the ability to submit, or how hard a whipping you can take, or how good you can suck cock. It’s more important than love.”

  “More important than love?” Johnny had questioned.

  “Yes, as far as a D/s relationship is concerned, I think so. What I mean is, if you have to lie, if you have to trick your dominant lover in order to do what you think pleases him, you are not giving him the true gift of your submission. So the love you think you’re offering is tainted by that. Less than whole, less than perfect.”

  They had been lying naked together sometime near dawn their second night together, exhausted from lovemaking and content just to hold one another. “If you become mine, I will demand complete and utter honesty. If you don’t like something or it scares you, and I ask you to tell me what you are feeling, I want you to tell me, with complete openness, what you’re really feeling. If you don’t, and we go forward, moving deeper into a Dom/sub relationship, with you not fully engaged as a result of holding yourself back, we will fail. We will fail as lovers. I truly believe dishonesty, either overtly or by omission, is the kiss of death for any relationship, but most especially for a D/s one.”

  Remembering this conversation, Johnny now admitted, “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well,” Johnny took a breath. “I, uh, I practiced with it.”

  “Be specific.”

  “I, well, I put it in my ass. I was able to do it when I was alone.” He glanced toward Eric and then looked away, his cock flagging a little.

  Eric stood again, moving in front of his lover, gently taking Johnny’s shaft in his hand, the other hand cupping the heavy balls beneath. “Very good,” he said softly. “I’m proud of you.” He stroked Johnny’s cock for a few moments. Johnny was breathing deeply and bent his head as if to kiss Eric.

  “No. Stand still. You will not move unless and until I tell you, is that understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, Sir. I want you to address me as ‘Sir’ from now on when we are in this mode. When you are naked and I am commanding you, I want you to call me ‘Sir’. When we are both clothed and just hanging out you can call me Eric. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Johnny said softly. He bit his lip. The fierce pleasure shooting from his nerve endings at Eric’s skilled caress of his cock and balls was offset by the tremble of trepidation as he thought about what he was doing—naked and at the mercy of this strong, dominant man to whom he’d just promised complete obedience.

  “Did you bring it with you?”
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  “The dildo?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah. It’s in my jacket.”

  “Get it.”

  “Oh, I really—”

  Eric cut him off. “No, don’t speak. Just get it. Now.”

  Johnny went to the hook beside the front door where he’d hung his jacket. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out the bag and returned it to Eric.

  “Let’s go to the bedroom,” Eric said. “You can show me your new skill.” Without waiting to see if he followed, Eric sauntered from the living room. Johnny followed him, his heart going a mile a minute.

  Eric moved toward the bed and sat on the edge as he opened his night table drawer. He held out a tube of lubricant to Johnny. “Use this. Show me what you can do. I’ll let you do it yourself this time.”

  “Oh man, Eric, uh, Sir, I don’t know if I can—”

  Again Eric cut him off. “Of course you can. Don’t be ridiculous. Modesty has no place in a D/s relationship. I’ve seen your asshole. I’ve touched it, I’ve even licked it. I haven’t fucked you yet, but eventually I will, when you’re ready. Now, don’t be disobedient. I want you to stand there in front of me, bend over, spread your ass cheeks and stick that little cock up your ass. Surely you can handle it now with ease. Let’s hope so, if you’re ever going to handle me.” He arched his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sardonic smile.

  Johnny felt the heat licking his face as he tried to gird himself to spread his ass cheeks for his lover. Yet at the same time he knew he was being a little silly. After all, they’d been naked together, touching each other, kissing, caressing. He’d sucked Eric’s cock and Eric had sucked his. As he thought about Eric touching his asshole with his tongue he blushed anew.

  He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of someone looking at his asshole. He knew he’d better get over that if he were going to belong to Eric. Turning away, Johnny removed the dildo from its bag. Flipping up the cap of the tube of lubricant, he squirted some on the head of the rubber penis.