by J P Barnaby
“It. Means. A. Lot. To. Me. That. You. Wanted. To. Learn.. I. Would. Love. To. See.,” Spencer said.
Aaron held up his hand with his middle and ring fingers pointing toward his palm and his thumb, forefinger, and pinky stuck out. All the air seemed to leave Spencer’s body in a woosh, and Aaron saw nothing but light and love, color and sound as it crossed his face.
“Oh…,” he said quietly, and Aaron’s smile faltered until Spencer took his hand and put it over his heart.
“I. Love. You. Too., Aaron..”
For Howard, who has changed my life in ways I can’t even enumerate. I love you and look forward to many more years of friendship with you, no matter how wild the ride.
Acknowledgments
IN THE pursuit of realistic fiction, it is necessary to draw upon the knowledge and experience of experts. While I have experience as a submissive in the BDSM lifestyle, I’ve only seen fire flogging done on video and called upon those who have extensive experience to assist me with the detailing and safety information. Fifty Shades of Grey has demonstrated that readers will attempt what authors describe to them in fiction. For Ben (titled Painting Fire on the Air in 1st Edition), I partnered with experienced BDSM players who not only practice in their personal life, but on film. I’d like to acknowledge their contributions and thank them for helping me to make the book as real and accurate as it is possible to be.
I’d like to thank Dire Callahan of Steel Mill Media for helping me with the safety information needed for the fire-flogging scene, for providing his feedback for the book as a whole, and for his generous friendship and support. Also, a sincere thank you for Growler, who brings light into my life each time I get to see him.
I’d also like to thank Derek da Silva for his impressions and experiences as someone who has been on the Dom side of fire flogging. Through his example, I was able to bring Kage to life with flare.
For Tony Buff, whose fire-flogging image inspired me to write the book—thank you for your beauty, your grace, and your example.
For Gio Caruso, who took the gorgeous image of Drake Jaden for the cover of this novel—thank you for your vision and the way you see beauty in everything.
And finally—a huge thank you to my amazing friend Drake Jaden who put me in contact with everyone else I needed for this book, provided an amazing character in Ben, gave me details only a submissive on the other end of a flaming flogger would appreciate, and other details throughout the book to make Ben a dynamic and three-dimensional character. I couldn’t have written the book without his insight, but more than that, our collaboration brought me his friendship, which I will forever cherish.
Drake Jaden, you are brilliant and beautiful and amazing—and I am in awe of you.
To everyone who came together to bring this amazing book to life—thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
—J.P. Barnaby
A Note from the Author
MY WRITING on the BDSM lifestyle comes from my unique experience and is not indicative of others’ motivations or perspectives. Just like in any group of people, there are those who are healthy and happy and those who are working through trauma. People who practice the BDSM lifestyle do so because of their individual tastes and choices, not as a result of psychological damage.
The practice of BDSM, or any form of bondage or discipline, can be dangerous and should only be practiced by consenting, informed adults. The author offers no encouragement of the practice of any scenes depicted in this book. The content is for entertainment purposes only.
One
OUTSIDE THE edges of the blindfold, he saw nothing but darkness with inky black corners of empty space layered atop the absence of light. Benjamin Martin relaxed the best he could with harsh ropes digging into his skin. Stretched beyond comfort, he stood on the very tips of his toes to relieve the pressure in his shoulders. The thin cords binding his cock made it burn, but his back, his back was pure fire. Faint strains of shock rock filtered through his consciousness as another searing strike cracked across his skin. Reminding himself that he asked for… no, practically begged for the beating, Ben tightened his grip on the ropes that held his cuffs and dug his teeth into the gag. He deserved every blinding flash of pain, because it didn’t compare to what she’d endured.
He flinched from the bite of the leather, causing the pegs on his nipples to jerk, and he screamed against the rubber ball filling his mouth. Spit escaped around the gag and mingled with the tears that had streamed down his face. Clutching the bandana in his left hand, he begged himself to drop it and stop Kage from flaying him alive but couldn’t force his fingers to unlock. They tried… oh, they tried so desperately, but the tiny cloth hair tie wrapped around his right hand reminded him to stay strong. He needed the pain, especially then, so he held on tightly as if he could gain strength from the only thing he had left of her.
The flogger landed a solid, fleshy blow across the tops of his thighs, and the scream that ripped from him tore his throat. Another breeze from the old rotating fan in the corner blew across his sweat-drenched body, and he shivered despite the raging heat on his skin. With the breeze came the scent of fresh cut grass beyond the cinder-block walls. Ben closed his eyes behind the blindfold, clutching at the feeling of the cool air on his skin. The gag and the sobs made it hard for him to breathe, so he forced himself to take long, deep breaths in the lull before the next round of pain.
Only it never came.
Instead, the cords around his softened cock loosened and fell away, replaced with a hot, velvet mouth. The sweet and gentle touch on the heels of almost unendurable pain left Ben reeling. His head spun as it fell back between his taut arms, stretched and burning from supporting his weight. He thanked Kage around the ball in his mouth, but the sound came out as an unintelligible grunt. It was never “Sir” or “Master” as others had been, only “Kage,” as if he drew power from the reverence with which it was spoken.
Ben tried to open his legs farther, but the spreader bar held them in place. Instead, he pushed his hips forward, silently pleading for the Dom to take his pain. The endorphin rush made him dizzy, almost as if he were floating, tethered to the earth by nothing but the feeling of Kage’s mouth on his dick. He no longer recognized the sounds coming from him, a combination of muffled pleas and moans as Kage’s talented tongue circled the head of his cock. He was gripping the ropes again in tight fists, and his sore fingers cramped as he tried desperately to find an anchor to steady him. Instead, he found a hand toying with his balls and lube being applied by confident fingers.
Holding on, straining, he ached for his Dom to stretch his hole. The pleasure he would find couldn’t take away the devastation in his heart, but if he just held it at bay for a little while, maybe he could find the strength to get through the day. As he waited, every pain in his body made itself acutely known. The raw skin on his back screamed in protest as he hung suspended from the rafters in Kage’s makeshift garage playroom. His arms ached, his throat burned, but his chest, his heart, hurt worse than any of it. Silently he begged for Kage to make it stop, just that one pain. Please… please make it stop.
Her face swam in front of his eyes as consciousness waned. A dusting of freckles across her nose, her quick lighthearted grin, her green eyes that always contrasted his blue, and every other minute detail burst across his mind and clamped around his heart like a vise. For a moment, it hurt too much to breathe. The tears started again before he could stop them. Then a voice, low and hot just behind his ear, commanded his attention.
“Do you want it, boy? Beg me for it,” Kage said in a growl as he slid his cock along the crevice between the globes of Ben’s tight ass. Without even a second of hesitation, Ben forced incoherent pleas around the gag. Desperate and broken, he would have done anything to gain Kage’s favor. He needed the approval, the validation of his own worth he found lacking in every other facet of his life. Ben could succeed there where he had failed everywhere else—his whole life.
His pleas turned into ho
t little whimpers, ending in a yelp when his legs were jerked sharply into the air. A clink of metal and jolt of the spreader bar meant Kage had attached the bar to a hook near his wrists. Bent double, he could feel his own hot breath on his knee and Kage’s body heat against the backs of his thighs. A warm, strong hand reached between his spread legs and jacked his cock just long enough to make his thighs tense with an urgent need. The hand moved next to his balls, teasing and rolling them, making them draw up closer to his body as his dick throbbed against his stomach. Sliding lower still, it made Ben moan, throaty and harsh around the gag, as it rubbed his perineum and then swirled around his tight little hole.
“Please,” Ben cried, muffled by the gag, but Kage seemed to know what Ben needed. Slowly, Ben breathed through the burn as Kage stretched the tight ring of muscle and breached his ass. He grunted into the gag, at the Dom’s mercy, unable to do anything but take it. The muscles contracted around the invasion and tried to force it out, but Kage drove his cock deeper, relentlessly into Ben. Harsh fingers on his ass dug into the muscle with bruising force, but Ben couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Your ass feels so good around my cock—almost like it was made for me,” Kage muttered against his cheek as his wiry goatee scraped against Ben’s skin. He pulled back slowly before thrusting again. Nothing existed for Ben except blackness, angry music, and the dick buried deep in his body. For the first time that day, he didn’t think about her. He didn’t torture himself trying to imagine her screams. He simply focused on the throbbing pain in his shoulders, the fingers digging into his hips, and the white hot pleasure that ripped through him each time Kage sawed across his prostate. A breeze from the forgotten fan fluttered across his body and caught his attention. When he shivered, Kage tightened his arms tighter around Ben’s hips and held him still against the brutal thrusts.
His body swayed with the momentum of the hips slamming into him and put even more pressure on his shoulders. Shifting as best he could in his bondage, Ben tried to find a more comfortable position for his aching arms, but none existed. Instead, he focused every bit of his energy into the orgasm that floated just out of his reach, like sunlight hidden behind clouds of pain. If he could just find a way to break through, he could be warm again in the sunlight. He wanted it, he wanted it so fucking badly he could taste it in the back of his teeth… anything to make the pain stop.
Suddenly the clouds shifted and a big, calloused hand wrapped around his cock. Rough against his skin, the scrape added a level of sensation that arched his back despite the awkward suspended position. The change made Kage’s dick punch his prostate rather than just glancing off it, but Ben’s gasp of pleasure didn’t quite make it past the ball filling his mouth. A low, sadistic chuckle sent a shiver through Ben’s body, and on sheer instinct, he held his breath. He let it out on a scream as Kage opened the peg on his left nipple and the blood rushed back into his tiny nub. With surprising mercy, Kage didn’t draw out the anticipation and pulled off the other peg, then rubbed Ben’s pecs. Quivering like a bowstring, his muscles so tight he didn’t know if he’d ever loosen them, the pleasure shot down his spine and erupted through his cock.
“That’s my good boy,” Kage moaned as Ben’s hot semen splattered on his own chest. Every muscle contracted, the ones in his ass making it so tight, he swore he could feel the ridges of Kage’s shaft in his channel. Rewarded with a low, desperate “fuck” from his Dom, he floated as the fucking pounded on. The hand on his dick continued to stroke, prolonging the sweet edge of his pleasure. Again and again the cock filled him, each thrust with a little less finesse than the one before. The only warning of Kage’s impending climax came in the form of a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl in his ear. The growl turned into a slow groan as a hot, wet throb exploded inside his hole.
“Fuck, boy,” Kage said. He tried to catch his breath and pulled out slowly. Ben hung limp and boneless from the suspension gear with his Dom’s come dripping out of his ass. Debauched and utterly exhausted, he didn’t even try to help when Kage disengaged the clip holding the spreader bar onto the hook. His arms screamed as his legs were carefully lowered.
“I’ve got you. It’s okay,” Kage murmured against Ben’s ear. The balls of his feet touched the thick mat on the floor, but Ben’s legs wouldn’t support him. He continued to come down onto the floor, first to his knees, and then onto his sore ass where a ratty mattress separated his skin from the harsh concrete floor. The tension in the rope binding his arms disappeared and he fell back against a strong chest. He breathed deeply in and out through his nose while Kage loosened the straps holding the gag in his mouth. When it fell away, he gulped down air, a bone-deep ache working through his jaw, and Kage held him tighter.
“Take it slow.” The authoritative ring in Kage’s voice made Ben obey. He rested his head against the bigger man’s chest and waited. Silence had replaced the harsh rock at some point; when, Ben didn’t know, but he could hear the pounding of Kage’s heart. Cool air from the fan raised goose bumps on his skin and he shivered. “Close your eyes, boy.”
Ben squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold as the straps digging into his skin loosened and fell away. Bright light pressed against his closed lids and threatened to find a way in. It took more will than he possessed to force his squinted eyes open, and he immediately closed them again. Every part of his body ached, and he didn’t want to face reality just yet.
“I have some water here. You need to drink.”
Ben nodded, and a bottle pressed against his lips. Cool water washed over his parched tongue and lips like ambrosia. Kage only let him have small sips at first but then tipped the bottle back a bit and let him drink his fill. Kage’s staccato heartbeat filled Ben’s mind, pushing out every other thought as he rested against his Dom. Not yet. I can’t think about it. Please just a few more minutes. An unexpected hand stroked his head, rubbing his scalp in slow circles. He’d just shaved it that morning, as he did every few days, and the tactile affection soothed him. A quiet moan escaped him as he nuzzled closer against Kage. Normally, the Dom didn’t allow the type of affection he showed in that moment, but the session had been hard for Ben, and he needed something more. Kage couldn’t have known about her, but he was incredibly perceptive. Ben could feel his concern in the gentle aftercare touches.
“Sit forward, boy. I have something for your back.” The authority in Kage’s voice had him leaning forward before he realized what that meant, and then he jerked back immediately, his breath coming in harsh, panicked gasps. Kage couldn’t take it away. The pain had to last, he needed the reminder. He needed the sting for when he was alone again.
“No, I don’t want it,” Ben told him firmly and tried to twist around to shield his flayed skin. The sudden movement shot pain from shoulder to knee, and he clamped his mouth around a whimper. Braving the light again, he opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh intensity. Kage’s hard face came into view. Electric-blue eyes, kind of like his but more dangerous, were furious at the audacity of Ben questioning his command. A severe black crew cut framed a hard face that had seen too much shit in life.
“Don’t you fucking question me. I don’t know what shit is going on in your head, but subs don’t leave here damaged. You are my boy and will not reflect badly on me,” Kage growled as a strong, sure hand clamped onto the back of Ben’s neck and pushed him forward. Relenting, Ben closed his eyes against the pain brewing in his chest as Kage painted his back with careful fingers. A faint medicinal smell surrounded him, and he lamented losing even a little of the distracting sting in his back and legs. Pain kept him grounded. If he focused on that, he didn’t have to think about anything else.
“I’m sorry, Kage,” Ben said automatically. It took his Dom more than thirty minutes to care for Ben’s surprisingly unbroken skin, rub the soreness from his shoulders and arms, and clear away the equipment from their afternoon session. By the time Ben dressed and stood in the late summer Midwestern heat of Kage’s backyard, his heart h
urt again. He fingered the hair tie tucked safely into his jeans pocket as Kage padlocked the garage sanctuary and came to stand next to him.
“Ben,” he prompted, reminding Ben that outside of the garage where he’d just been fucked while hanging from the rafters, they were just Ben and Kage—a motorcycle mechanic and a mill rat. They weren’t friends, exactly, but they were friendly, each giving the other what they needed in a symbiotic relationship of pain and sex. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Ben’s eyes drifted over the huge expanse of grass as he considered, then closed against the late afternoon sun. He liked the feeling of the warmth on his face and the quiet solitude of Kage’s rural property. The garage, which housed the equipment his Dom had spent a lifetime amassing, stood back several hundred feet from the rambling house. They couldn’t even see the nearest neighbors for the extensive tree line. Isolated and peaceful; no one would guess what happened there.
“I’m alright.” Ben opened his eyes but didn’t meet Kage’s as he answered. He couldn’t bring himself to blur the lines in their relationship because he needed Kage so fucking badly. An addiction, just what the shrinks had always told him to avoid. But, he only drank on occasion, he’d given up the drugs, and had no real vices anymore except being beaten and fucked by a harsh, indifferent Master. Losing Juliette had taken everything else from him.
His jeans, his boots, even his T-shirt felt stiff and confining after the beautiful freedom of nudity during the session. Ben would stay naked if society and prudence allowed it. With nothing else to say, he turned toward the Harley Davidson Fat Boy waiting for him in the driveway. Psychedelic-purple paint with gleaming accents reflected the sunlight and glowed with a warm hue. Its sensual lines had become his closest companions. Right then, the bike’s solitude appealed to him in the worst way. He wanted to climb atop its chrome and leather body and disappear.
