“Here's your bag, Master Rai. If you'd like, I've had Darin prepare our newest edition to the bar.” She gestured to the manacles dangling from the rafter over the end of the bar. Under them was a stool that looked like a modified spanking bench. “I've found it works wonderfully with Jude, and as your sub is roughly the same size as him, you shouldn’t have to adjust the lengths too much.”
Diachi nodded. “Thank you. I do believe I shall take your suggestion.” He snapped his fingers at Hark. “Come, koibito.” Taking ahold of his sub's arm, he moved down the length of the bar until he was standing just to the left of where the manacles dangled. Stripping the shirt off Hark, he briefly admired the strong muscles of his back. His eyes were drawn to a tattoo just to the right of his spine. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the Japanese symbols. Interesting.
Deciding now wasn't the time to inquire about the significance of the tattoo, he lifted one of Hark's arms and secured it snuggly within the fleece lined metal. After he ran a finger under the edge of it, he moved to the opposite side to secure Hark's other wrist. Once his sub was secured, he stepped back to get a good look at the sub standing so defensively next to the bar. Wrists cuffed and held apart by a spreader bar, Hark’s torso hovered over the polished surface of the bar, while the padded stool protected his hip bones from the hard edge of wood. But it wasn’t quite right. He wanted Hark slanted a bit more. Taking a moment to adjust the bench to his liking, Diachi then placed a palm against the base of Hark's back and pressed him forward. He nodded in satisfaction. Now his not-so-little koibito was ready for him.
“This time, the pants stay. Not only because we're in the main room, but because I'm a greedy bastard. I don't want others gawking at your ass before I have time to reacquaint myself with it. But make no mistake, the next time you try a stunt like this, you'll be stripped down to nothing but your skin — club rules be damned.”
“Yes, Sir.” Hark's response was muffled against his arm.
“Good. Now, let’s see about breaking down some of those walls, shall we.” He stepped back and opened his bag. Examining the few items inside of its depths, he finally choose his favorite short whip and his suede flogger. These would work nicely. Setting them both on the bar in front of Hark, he smiled at his sub’s quick intake of breath. If he hadn't changed, Hark would fall into sub-space easily under the light to medium impact items. It had always amazed him how a lighter touch would send Hark over the edge, while every other sub he'd ever had — Bryan included, needed a firmer, harder amount of impact to achieve the same goal. His koibito had always been one of a kind. And deserves everything we can give him. A part of him ached for Bryan to be here with them, but knew this first time it had to be just him and Hark.
“What is your safeword, Harkahome?”
“Clover.” Hark's hoarse reply barely reached his ears.
“Good. You’ll use it if it becomes too much.”
* * * *
Hark sighed, his body at war with his mind. He couldn't believe he'd let Diachi chain him to the bar like some slave. His body and some inner part of him wanted what his Sir could give him, but his brain kept screaming nothing good could come from this — that he was just setting himself up for heartache.
“Count off. You won’t retreat within yourself,” Diachi ordered, just before the first strike landed on his shoulder.
The sting of what had to be a whip as it kissed his skin caused Hark's breath to catch. The familiar burn was a welcome one. “One, Sir.”
“Good boy.”
Diachi's approval stung almost as much as the whip had. He didn't deserve it, especially after his blowout with Bryan. The next blow wrapped around his ribs, just under his arm pit. “Two, Sir.” He barely had time to call out the stroke before the whip found its mark on his other shoulder. He hissed as the physical pain chipped away at the emotional turmoil. “Three, Sir.”
“Your skin still takes marks well, Harkahome. Perhaps later I’ll be able to use the flogger on every inch of you. Do you remember the last time you laid on our bed and accepted every stroke as the gift it was?”
The reminder was unwelcome, but Hark forced himself to answer. “Yes, Sir. You sent me to sub-space.”
“That's right. I did. And I intend to do it again.”
Hark arched as the whip found his opposite shoulder blade. He breathed through the pain. “Four, Sir.” Then he lost track of time as his Sir plied the whip with just enough sting to keep him on the edge of true pain. He'd just croaked out, “Twelve, Sir.” when the whipping stopped. He drew a deep breath. He wasn't in sub-space — nowhere close, in fact.
“What level are you?” Diachi appeared at his side, the short whip dangling from his fingers.
“Green, Sir.” He met his Dom's eyes defiantly, wanting the man to know he was nowhere near conquered.
Diachi only smirked as he trailed the end of the whip down Hark's spine. Hark bit his lip hard to contain the moan the action evoked. The tasseled tip of the whip tickled his skin and pulled at the welts Diachi had carefully placed on his back. When the whip retraced its path to his shoulders, he couldn't control the shivers racking his body.
“Do you need a drink?”
The offer wasn't unexpected. A good Dom made sure his sub was safe at all times.
“I'm fine. It'll take more than a few strokes like this for me to require water, Sir.”
Sighing, Diachi shook his head. “Resistant ‘til the end.” Diachi slowly dragged the whip up Hark’s extended arm, then back down to his side. “But we both know I'll win this battle of wills.”
“Perhaps, Sir.”
Dropping the whip on the bar in front of Hark, Diachi picked up the multi-stranded suede flogger. Inside his pants, Hark's dick hardened further. He'd been half hard throughout the whipping, but the sight of the flogger pushed him into full arousal. The bastard knows how to drive me insane. He bit his lip again to keep from begging Diachi to use the whip once more. Because sure as the sun rose in the east, Diachi would only ignore his plea, and still use the flogger.
“There’ll be none of that.” Diachi used the handle of the flogger to lift Hark's chin. The strands whispered across his chest – teasing him with its feathery caress. “You won’t mar your lip in such a fashion. I've warned you about that in the past. Do you need a reminder?”
He shook his head. “No, Sir. One week without kisses is enough.”
“Let me catch you again and it’ll be twice the length.” Diachi rubbed the handle over Hark's lower lip. “This lip is mine. If I want to see it raw, it’ll be me who does it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Diachi nodded, then disappeared from view and in the process dragged the strands over his shoulder. The caress of suede against his sensitive skin was tormenting. He wanted to feel the dull thud of the many strands against his body – to enjoy the mingling of pain and heat that would ultimately push him into the dark place where he only existed.
Behind him, he could hear the swish of the flogger as Diachi warmed his arm. Leave it to his Sir to be over indulgent in safety. “There’ll be no need to count off this time, Harkahome. However, you will answer my questions.”
“Yes, Sir.” Dread filled the pit of Hark's stomach. He knew exactly what Diachi was hoping to accomplish. The man was truly diabolical. There was no way for Hark to protect himself once the flogger stripped him of his defenses. He would be at the mercy of his dominant once again. Part of him feared it, while another craved it.
When the first blow landed and enveloped his right lat, he groaned softly. The heat was amazing. It had been so long since he'd experienced it. Two long years. He breathed through his nose as the next toss of Diachi's arm found his left shoulder. The heat wrapped around the top of the muscle to tease his collarbone. He relaxed into it, savoring each surge of sensation as Diachi worked each muscle group in his back. He was barely aware of the words of encouragement pouring from his dominant's mouth or his own halting answers as he responded to each questi
on.
Wasn't he a fool for running?
Yes.
Hadn't he promised to come to his Sir when the stress got to be too much?
Yes.
Didn’t he promise to keep their sub safe from all harm – including himself?
Yes.
And didn’t he belong safe in his master’s embrace?
Yes.
And wasn’t it his master’s pleasure to take care of all his needs?
Yes.
Each question was answered with an unequivocal yes. But as the flogging continued to grow in its intensity, Hark struggled with the answers, pouring out his resentment, his agonizing desire at merely holding Diachi or Bryan every night; even the guilt he felt for moving on without Master George and Teresina. With each stroke, the weight on his shoulders lessened, until he hovered on the verge of the release he craved.
“That’s it. Your body remembers who it belongs to, koibito. Let go. I’ll keep you safe.” Diachi’s words came as if at a distance. The next strike proved to be too much and tears ran down his cheeks despite his obvious erection. The pain and guilt which had been his constant companions disappeared as he tumbled into the comforting darkness.
* * * *
When Hark’s body went lax and no sounds of pleasured pain spilled from his sub’s lips, Diachi knew he’d achieved what he’d set out to do. His koibito was once again floating above himself. He nodded his thanks when Jude appeared on the other side of Hark as he unfastened the first cuff. With Jude’s help, they managed to release Hark from the manacles and carry him to a nearby couch. He wordlessly accepted a blanket and bottle of water from Olivia. Sitting down next to his sub, he covered Hark with the blanket and set the water between his feet. Then he took one of Hark’s wrists in hand and rubbed the slightly red skin. The whole time he kept up a soft, soothing dialogue, until Hark finally opened his eyes.
“Master?” The word came out mumbled and his normally sharp gaze was a bit confused.
“Shh, you flew very high, Harkahome.” After twisting the cap off the sweaty bottle, he held it to Hark’s lips. He smiled as the man greedily sipped at the cool water and wondered if Hark had noticed what he’d called him. There was no doubt in his mind Hark was now a hundred percent his.
“Enough.” Hark pushed the bottle away and tried to sit up.
“Not so fast.” Diachi easily pushed him back down. “We’re not done yet.”
“We’re not?” Hark seemed confused.
“Oh, no. There’s still the matter of…” Diachi pushed his hand under the blanket to cup the obvious erection tenting Hark’s slacks. His sub hissed as he rubbed his thumb over the crest. Even through the fabric he could feel the throb. “This.”
“Master, we can’t.” Hark trembled under his touch. “The rules.”
He smiled wolfishly. “You’re covered, so we’re not breaking any rules.” He abandoned the hard ridge of flesh to unfasten Hark’s pants. Hark groaned as he tugged him free of the confining cloth. “I want your pleasure, Harkahome, and you will give it to me.”
“Ah…yes…Master.” Hark arched into his caress.
Warmth filled Diachi as his sub lost himself to his touch. It only took a few long strokes for Hark to fill his cupping hand with his seed. As ecstasy contorted Hark’s features, he smiled. “Beautiful.”
Hark moaned softly before relaxing back against the couch, his eyes dazed with pleasure this time. “Wow.” The word tumbled free of him.
“Yeah.” He withdrew his hand after tucking Hark back inside his slacks. “That was a long time in coming.”
“And I should kick your ass, but I won’t.” Olivia appeared at his elbow with a warm damp washcloth.
Diachi chuckled as he took it. After using it to remove all traces of his sub’s release, he turned it inside out and tossed into a nearby pail used for dirty cloths. “He was covered at all times.”
She arched her eyebrow at him. “The rules state there shall be no nudity or sexual contact in the main room.”
Diachi glanced at Hark. “I don’t know. Would you consider what I just did was sexual, Harkahome?”
“No, Master.” A grin split Hark’s face.
“Then what would you call it?” Olivia asked tartly.
“My master taking care of me.” Hark replied, tongue in cheek.
Olivia sighed. “Men, splitting hairs as usual.” She shook her finger at Diachi. “Don’t let it happen again. If you want to be an exhibitionist, next time take it to one of the observation rooms. Hear me?”
Diachi nodded. “Of course, Mistress Olivia.”
“Good. Now I suggest you go home and reassure your submissive everything will be okay. He called here about thirty minutes ago.”
Hark sat up, the blanket pooling around his waist. “Damn. I fucked up, didn’t I?”
“Let’s just say he’s waiting at home to kick your ass.” Diachi helped him up.
“Shit.” Hark sounded tired as Diachi handed him his dress shirt.
“Just let him fuss over you for a while and I’m sure all will be forgiven. Our sub takes his position seriously.”
Hark nodded. “I can do that.” As he tucked in his shirt, he looked at Diachi hopefully. “Do you think he’d give me a rub down if I asked nicely?”
Diachi chuckled. “It might be pushing it, but you can ask.”
Chapter Twenty-One
BRRING!
Bryan froze in the middle of his downward dog move. The sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon and his men were still tangled like pups on the bed a few short feet away from him. Last night, he'd been frantic by the time Master had returned with Sir. The exhausted look on Sir's face had killed his anger. Instead of tearing into him, Bryan had helped their master strip Hark, and tucked him face-down in their bed. After rubbing his reddened skin with witch hazel, he and Master had climbed in on either side of him before falling into an exhausted slumber – one which both men were still enjoying. So who the hell dared call his home this early?
When the phone rang again, he quickly rose from his position and twisted to grab the phone, only to find Hark sitting up, his dark hair rumpled and his eyes half closed as he spoke into the receiver.
“Yes?” Hark ran a hand through his loose hair. “Whoa, slow down, Sharonda. Start again from the beginning.”
Every sense Bryan possessed went on high alert as his Sir spoke to his assistant. After several non-committal responses, Hark tossed back the covers, exposing both his and Diachi's nude bodies. “No. Don't go into the building. Wait for us to get there. That's an order. Bryan and I will be there in less than thirty minutes. Stay with the security guard. I mean it!” Hanging the phone up, he rolled off the bed. He grimaced as he straightened. A low groan passed his lips.
“Sir?” Bryan moved closer. “Are you...”
“Just stiff.” Hark gave him a half smile. “I'd forgotten how tense muscles can be after good flogging. No worries. A hot shower will set me to rights.” He walked over to the armoire to pull out clothing when Diachi's voice broke the silence.
“Don't you even think about getting dressed, koibito.”
Hark looked over his shoulder at Diachi. “I promise when we get back, it's the first place I'll go, Master. There was a break-in at Sterling Foods. Sharonda found the front door unlocked. We need to —”
Diachi crossed his arms over his chest. “Is she safe?”
“She's with the security guard. Marius arrived just before she called us.” Hark looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“Then she's safe. Shower. Now.” Diachi threw his legs over the edge of the mattress. “You won't be any good for anything if you can't move.” Standing, he lazily stretched, his body outlined in the early morning light. Of course Bryan couldn’t help but drool at the display. “In fact, our shower is big enough for all three of us, so it will easily accommodate you and Bryan. Once you're done, I'll drive both of you to the office, since Hark's vehicle is still at the club.”
Hark seemed ready to b
alk, but a pointed look from their master had him sighing. “I suppose this is not something you're going to bend on, Master?”
Diachi arched an eyebrow at him, but spoke to Bryan. “Go start the shower while I remind your Sir who's in charge, Bryan.”
“Yes, Master.” He barely suppressed his smile until he entered the bathroom. Sometimes he wondered if his Sir was just dense, or perhaps looking for attention. One would think after last night, he'd think twice about crossing Master.
A sharp crack was followed by a low moan, but any further noises were soon drowned by the sound of the water hitting the marble. While the shower warmed up, he took care of business. After setting out fresh towels on the warmer, he stepped inside the stall as his men entered the bathroom. Hark looked none the worse for the wear until he turned, and Bryan got a clear view of his backside. Two handprints adorned his ass, one on each cheek. Evidently Diachi had taken him in hand. Happiness flooded Bryan. Master wasn't pussy-footing around any longer.
When Hark entered the steamy enclosure, he gave Bryan a dark look. “Don't even say it.”
Bryan was tempted to sass off, but decided it wasn't worth the promised retribution he saw in Hark's gaze. “Of course not, Sir.” He held out the loofah. “Would you like me to wash your...er back?”
Hark glared at him, but turned around. Bryan had to bite his cheek to keep from chuckling at the hand prints. They matched the thin stripes adorning Hark’s back. For some reason, the idea his Sir was no more immune than he was to their Master's quick hands tickled him. Soaping up the loofah, he started at the top of Hark's shoulders and gently worked his way down.
By the time he was done, Hark had an impressive erection, one Bryan wanted to take between his lips. Obviously seeing the lust in his eyes, Hark shook his head. “Not now. We have to get going. Finish washing up, little one.”
Bryan reached for more body soap, this time squirting a generous amount on his palm. Rubbing his hands together, he spread the lather across his Sir's chest. “What's wrong? Afraid you won't be able to resist fucking my tight ass, Sir?”
Healing Hark (Doms of Chicago) Page 19
