But his dick was still floppy and oversensitized as he put in the fifth and final disc: STRAIGHT SUB SETUP 3. So what to do?
You know what to do, Master Puck whispered in Austin’s head as the video Master Puck swaggered around the screen, menacing his new straight sub. Austin shook his head in token protest, mouthing no, no to himself. He couldn’t stop himself, though, from reaching down past his flaccid dick, down between his legs, down into the tight hot space there that he’d never touched before. Coarse hair brushed his fingertips, and he almost recoiled, but no, he was doing this. He was man enough to take any punishment, even one like this, one that completely un-manned him. And there it was, the tight circle of clenched, wrinkled skin. He touched it with his first finger—not pressing, just stroking, back and forth, back and forth. His heart pounded. Cold sweat drenched his skin.
The angle was all wrong. Too tight. His wrist was bent too far. He leaned back in his chair and flipped his legs over the arms of it, the sole of one foot landing on the flat surface of his desk. Much better. Open. Easier to get his hand in.
Easier for his master to watch, too.
He shuddered with disgust, felt it choking him, wished he could cough it up and spit it out.
Well, he’d have to push through it instead. He closed his eyes and listened to Master Puck’s voice, drifting, unable to understand the words. Didn’t need to though, not really, because the smooth sound of it, the powerful tone, the teasing rhythm, the hunger rough as sandpaper, those were all language beyond words.
He took a deep breath and held it, chest expanded. Let it out. Found that disgusting hungry place between his legs with one finger and pushed.
His body opened up around him, just enough. He puffed out his breath. Realized he was breathing through . . . exertion? Shit, that was exactly what it was. Like pushing himself through the last couple minutes of his workout. He grunted. The feeling of fullness morphed into one of sharp pinpoint pain. He hissed. Gritted his teeth. Opened his eyes and looked at the screen, looked at Master Puck standing with one hand bent formally behind his back as he fucked into his straight sub’s mouth. His straight sub, who was on his knees, arms stretched out to either side of him, and tied. Face covered in drool, eyes red with tears.
Punishment. Punishment was pain. Pain was punishment.
Austin jabbed himself harder, forcing through his own resistance, gritted his teeth, and clapped his free hand over his mouth and screamed into his palm.
One finger. Just one.
Couldn’t even debase and punish himself properly. Pathetic at being pathetic. Too much of a wuss to be a wuss.
He wiggled his finger a little, testing the walls of muscle that surrounded it so tightly. Bit his lip as his cock twitched against his thigh and thickened.
A miserable moan escaped as he twisted the finger and rubbed everywhere it could reach, massaging himself from the inside. His dick lifted, fell. Lifted again.
Struggling to get it up, Austin? a voice taunted. Master Puck’s? His own? One of his teammates’? What happened to all those super boners of yours? What’s wrong with you, can’t take a little pain and punishment? Can’t submit?
He shook his head and tasted blood and made some kind of whine/moan that sounded more dog than human. Wrapped his hand around his dick and cried because touching it still fucking hurt.
So what the fuck are you good for?
And came.
It was like a prescription medication. Take one gay porno nightly before bed. Do not consume alcohol or operate heavy machinery. If you have an erection lasting longer than four hours, seek medical help.
One gay porno a night, and Austin could trust himself to talk to Bobby without fucking it up irreparably. Could manage to go multiple days in a row without any of his teammates’ typical shit talking going straight to his dick. Which was a good thing, since his promotion to alternate captain of his team meant the amount of shit talking had multiplied tenfold.
One gay porno a night. Austin got well acquainted with the various FREE STREAMING PORN websites—and shortly after that, got familiar with FREE VIRUS CHECKER sites. He watched all kinds of porn. If there was two dudes fucking in it, he was there. Even if they pissed on each other (strangely hot), even if they sucked each other’s toes (less so). Porn of big burly guys covered in hair, porn of hairless Eastern European teenage guys. Homemade videos of dudes fucking and trying to hide their faces at the same time. It all solidified one thing: Austin did not have the hots for men. Abs, pecs, hair, dicks and balls and assholes, it was all about as sexy to him as looking at photos from his stepmother’s latest Mexico vacation. (Not at all.)
Night after night, though, no matter what else he watched, it all came back to Master Puck. Watching and rewatching his scenes, picturing him in other people’s scenes, just thinking about him and concocting his own fantasies where the straight sub who got set up was Austin. The things Puck could do. The things Austin wanted him to do. To him. God, fuck. He may not have been attracted to men, but he was sure as hell attracted to Master Puck . . . Or rather, attracted to his power, at least. His power to command and conquer and convert.
Whatever. All that mattered was that Austin didn’t feel awkward anymore when he walked in on Christian and Max making out on the couch— He regularly saw far worse, after all. He barely reacted to coming to work and finding Bobby working the counter in a miniskirt. Jerking off all the time was helping him sleep better, too, and he thought that—outside of simply being too tired for it—he didn’t feel that compulsion to punish himself as much. Well, not the way he used to, at least. No more exercising until he puked or strained himself. Instead, the punishments were part and parcel with the porn. Pleasure and pain tied together, like they should never have been kept apart. The punishments still hurt, but they felt good, too. They left him worn out and raw after, but in a satisfied way, more like the soreness after a good game—a productive pain that could be soaked away in a hot bath—than like the searing shame and self-hatred of the pain he’d inflict on himself for its own sake. He’d never realized how alike overexercising and cutting himself were until now; until he was free of them both and had the perspective that came with that distance. Kinda made him a little sick to think about, honestly.
Two weeks into his “treatment,” he came in to work to find Noah working the day shift. Noah looked up at the sound of the bell and smiled when he saw Austin. “Hey, big guy! You working nights?”
Austin nodded mutely. He and Noah hadn’t really spoken much since their “talk.” Austin had kind of been avoiding him, and he had a feeling Noah had been doing the same in return. The guy hated laying down the landlord law; it had probably been physically painful for him to have to sit Austin down and threaten him like that.
Noah’s smile turned slightly awkward as Austin sat down beside him. “So, uh, hey.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Bobby talked to me. Said you’ve been making an effort.”
“Oh yeah?” Austin replied, trying not to give away how eager he was to hear Noah say something good about him.
“Yeah. Whatever you’ve been doing, keep it up.”
There went Austin’s resolve not to look too eager, because now he was practically squealing. “So I can stay? You’re not kicking me out?”
“I didn’t say that, not yet. But keep it up.” Damn, that was it? All this work, and that was it? Noah patted Austin on the shoulder in a lame conciliatory gesture, and it was all Austin could do not to shrug his hand off like a moody teenager. “Anyway, Beverly is coming in to cover the last hour of my shift. Gotta get back to my other job before dinner service. She should be here in a few minutes to do shift changeover, so I’m gonna split now so I can catch the bus.” He stood. Gave Austin another awkward dad-ly slap on the back. “Just . . . keep it up, buddy. Okay?”
Austin watched him bustle out the door.
And as Noah left, Master Puck—er, Liam—came striding up to the counter out of nowhere with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his infur
iatingly gorgeous face. “How’s it going there, buddy?” he asked. Austin should have been ashamed and humiliated and furious at having the nickname turned around that way, and by some asshole know-it-all stranger, no less, but shit, this was Master Puck. Master Puck said what he wanted to who he wanted, and you didn’t fucking give him lip if you knew what was good for you.
God, there went Austin, unable to separate porn from the real world, again. Liam in his bomber jacket blurring right in front of him with the larger-than-life figure of his Dominant alter ego. The guy Austin had jerked off to. Multiple times. It was fucking crazy, and yet somehow this time the crossing of the streams didn’t make him feel nervous and awkward and uncomfortable like before. It made him feel strangely secure. He felt safe. Because he’d shared a part of himself with this man, even if he didn’t know it, and it had been okay, and Liam hadn’t judged him or hurt him or rejected him for it. Austin’s secret wasn’t Austin’s secret anymore. It was almost . . . their secret. “Could be better,” he replied honestly, and then he laughed. “But God, it sure could be a whole hell of a lot worse.”
Liam pursed his lips. “That’s . . . pessimistic but upbeat?”
“Masochistic?” Austin suggested, then flushed hot when he realized what he’d said. And to who.
Liam’s eyes narrowed, and his smile tilted into a smirk. “You know, straight kid, that sounded an awful lot like you were trying to impress me.”
Austin huffed and glared right back. “Get over yourself, bisexual old man. You gimp-mask types don’t own the word masochist, you know.”
A comeback that only made Liam’s smirk even more insufferable. “Maybe so, but we definitely own the word gimp mask.”
“Yeah, well— Look, you wanna rent something, or what?”
Liam slipped forward, draping himself over the counter with all the natural smugness of a cat. “Nope,” he said.
Fucking insufferable prick. Insufferable sexy prick. “Okay, so are you returning something then?”
“Nope.”
Beverly bustled up to the counter. “He’s here to see me.” She dropped a massive purple purse so she could shake Liam’s hand in both her own. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Williams!”
Liam laughed and likewise reached out with his other hand so that they were both holding each other like two overexcited teenage girls. “Likewise, but God, please. Call me Liam.”
“Beverly,” she replied in kind.
“We call her Auntie Beverly,” Austin added, out of some absurd urge to be included in their conversation. Well, to be included in Liam’s conversation, mostly, although he should really be trying to get on Beverly’s good side, too. After all, his home and his job were on the line right now, and Beverly definitely had a say in the job side of things.
“You are adorable,” Liam said, giving Austin and then Beverly a thoroughly charmed look. “How tall are you, four feet? You’re like a porn fairy!”
Wow, he was being so nice. Not at all like his Master Puck persona. Austin felt himself smiling in a way he hadn’t smiled in a long time. A dopey, genuine smile. Not forced or self-conscious at all.
Auntie Beverly punched Liam in the arm with a tittering laugh. “How dare you! I am five two, I’ll have you know, but as for porn fairy, guilty as charged. Although I prefer my longer title: Porn and Vibrator Fairy.”
Liam’s eyes—green eyes—twinkled mischievously. “How much is the going rate on burnt-out vibrators left under pillows, these days?”
They went on like that, flirting and pawing at each other like old friends, with Austin feeling more and more like a piece of the furniture—or maybe a blow-up doll was more fitting—as time wore on. He didn’t feel bored so much as he felt left out. God, how embarrassing. None of his teammates would have cared; they’d have been glad not to be included in this squealing gay conversation. But here Austin was, practically dying to be noticed or acknowledged.
It was Beverly, not Liam, who finally thought to include Austin, and as terrible as it was, Austin’s heart sank that it had to be her. “Liam here owns a local adult production company,” she explained. “We carry some of their titles.”
“Co-owns,” Liam corrected. “And stars in.”
“Oh, I know,” Austin drawled.
And then immediately froze, realizing what he’d said.
Austin’s face went hot, seeing the way Liam and Beverly were looking at him—Beverly with wide-eyed curiosity, Liam with a half a smirk. His shoulders rose. “He came in earlier this week to sign the poster, remember? Guy was dying for me to recognize him.”
Liam made a mock-stabbed gesture. “Ow! Well. Nobody gets into porn because they don’t want attention or recognition. A complete and total whore, me, in all senses of the word.” He winked crudely. At Austin.
Austin narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t let Sandra hear you say that.” Beverly’s tone was playful but definitely sincere in its note of warning. “Not unless you have at least an hour to listen to her read you the radfem riot act.”
Liam flashed her a puzzled look. “What? Sandra your partner, you mean? That Sandra? She’s antiporn? And she co-owns a porn shop?”
“Antiporn?” Austin asked. Not that he was close with Sandra or anything, but she hadn’t seemed religious or whatever when they’d interacted. How could she be?
“They think coercion is inherent to the industry.” Liam rolled his eyes. “Like because we screw on camera, we’re too stupid to make our own decisions.”
Beverly wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s not fair. Sandra and I may not see eye to eye on the issue, but I do know that isn’t her point. She doesn’t think people working in the industry are stupid, she just thinks that a lot of people wouldn’t be doing porn if they had other—better—options. She doesn’t necessarily mean you. Or your company. I assume you don’t take advantage of people in dire straits.”
“I definitely don’t. My business partner and I are both pretty vigilant about making sure people know what they’re getting into and why. I don’t want to be the guy who takes advantage of somebody else.” His serious expression melted into a leer that he aimed directly at Austin. “Not unless they want to be taken advantage of, that is.”
Busted.
“I should, uh, put these cases back on the shelves. No wait, I need to take a crap, I mean.” Somewhere I can hide behind a closed door and Liam can’t follow me. “Yeah, that.” He squirmed in his seat.
“Aw, sorry, straight kid, don’t get all awkward. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Liam’s smile had way too many teeth for his apology to be sincere, but he still took his X-ray Dom gaze off Austin and swung his attention back to Beverly again. “So, okay, say I accept that her heart’s in the right place on the antiporn thing. That still doesn’t explain why she co-owns a porn store.”
“We agree to disagree,” Beverly replied with a shrug. “She . . . mostly admits that maybe it’s not fair to paint everyone with the same exploited-victim brush, and I take the time to look into the ethics of the companies I buy from. And anyway, she handles the sex toy and dirty book end of things.”
“Ohhh, I get it. So you’re the porn fairy, and she’s the vibrator fairy.”
Austin snorted. “Have you met this chick? I can think of lots of words to describe her—” Beverly shot him a withering side eye, and he hastily added, “—all of them nice. But ‘fairy’ is definitely not one of them.”
“Nice save,” Liam said with a laugh. “Sorta.”
“Maybe add ‘chick’ to that list of words you don’t use, Austin.” But Beverly still smiled. Maybe he hadn’t fucked up too badly, or maybe she was patient enough to give him an A for effort when he got a D for execution. “Anyway, Liam. Speaking of ethical companies, Sandra and I looked into Mischievous Pictures last night, and we both agreed we’d be happy to host you for some promotion. We’d love if you could be a part of our grand reopening celebrations the Saturday after next, in fact. Come in, look sexy, flirt, sign autographs, that s
ort of thing. We can’t pay you an appearance fee, but you can promote to your heart’s content, if that’s fair?”
“Sorry, you’re gonna have to match Paris Hilton’s going rate for appearances—I kid! That sounds great, Beverly. Auntie Bev.” He gave her hand another enthusiastic shake. “What about you, buddy, you gonna be around for the celebration?”
If you’re gonna be there?
As Master Puck?
As Liam?
Fuck yeah.
Hell no.
Austin squirmed more. “I don’t work that weekend. Practice.”
He could have sworn, for a second there, that Liam’s face fell, but then he was grinning again, all gay and in your face. “Practice, eh? And what kind of practice are we talking?”
Austin hardly saw how it mattered. Not like gay dudes had any interest in sports that didn’t feature half-naked men or feathery spandex costumes. And the second one only if you counted shit like figure skating as a sport in the first place.
Well, maybe Liam was just trying to be a good sport and cross the divide. And hadn’t Austin resolved to be nicer to gays and do his part by crossing his side of the divide? He wouldn’t shut the guy out. “Hockey.”
“With that perfect face? You’re lying.”
What the fuck? Austin recoiled. Was Liam hitting on him?
No, that wasn’t it. Couldn’t be. Liam had hit on him a couple times already today and yeah, it had made him uncomfortable, but it hadn’t made him angry. Not like this.
So what? Was Liam trying to cut him down by suggesting he was too pretty to play hockey? Because if so, fucker was about to find out you didn’t have to have a busted face to be able to take—or give—a good hit.
And then Liam’s hand drifted up to cup his crooked nose and scarred lip.
Liam’s crooked nose.
Liam’s scarred lip.
He’d touched them. Drawn attention to them. Did that mean—
“I’m not! Just lucky on the injuries so far,” Austin spluttered before he could finish that thought.
Straight Shooter (Rear Entrance Video, #3) Page 8
