by J P Barnaby
“Well, I’m changing out the alternator on that Cavalier over there, though they should just scrap the fucking thing because they’re about one more missed oil change away from a tanked engine. You can start diagnostics on the Camry. The chick that brought it in said it’s ‘making a noise,’ but couldn’t describe the noise or where it came from. I’m surprised she found the fucking door on the way out.” Rufus snorted and waved toward the silver Camry sitting in the first bay. “The keys are in the ignition if you want to test it out and see if you hear anything. Twenty bucks says when you start it, the fucking radio is too loud to hear anything.”
Ben laughed and threw his saddlebag up on top of the lockers where the guys stored their gear. With just him and Rufus there, he didn’t have to be too concerned about shit disappearing, though his wallet never left his back pocket no matter who worked. When he came back to the car, Ben did a visual inspection first and found no loose metal, no dropped muffler, and no broken pieces. When the engine turned over, it sounded normal. It wasn’t until he started to pull out of the bay and tapped the brakes that he found the source of the problem.
“Dayum,” Rufus called over the sound of rotors grinding down to nothing. “I guess she heard a noise. It’s a wonder the thing stops at all. She pulled it into the bay; I hadn’t had a chance to look at it yet. Well, at least it’s easy to fix.” Ben nodded. He could fix brakes and replace rotors in his sleep, so he couldn’t help a bit of disappointment. Usually, he got the ones that no one else could figure out, the challenges. Diagnostic equipment only took a mechanic so far—experience and ingenuity took him the rest of the way. Ben might have been a horrible son and an awful friend, but he had ingenuity in spades.
As the lift hoisted the Camry into the air, his cell phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket.
Got something special planned for next week’s session. Shave everything and meet me at Raging Inferno at 7.
Ben frowned. It had been months since he and Kage had done any kind of public demonstration. Kage liked to show off his toys just like any other Dom, but since they’d started doing their sessions on Tuesdays instead of Fridays, the crowds in the clubs were thin. No point showing off with no crowd. It must be really special to pull people out on a Tuesday. The hydraulics whined to a stop, and he surveyed what was left of Ms. Camry’s brakes.
JUDE LIKED the Mexican place around the corner from their complex. The subdued candlelight coupled with soft guitar enriched the experience to the point where it felt almost like a luxury to be there. The ambiance didn’t surpass the food, though—perfect cascading towers of cheese- and sauce-covered nachos, amazing chicken enchiladas, and some of the best carne asada he’d ever had. Good thing they didn’t eat there often or both Jude and Ben would weigh three hundred pounds. Jude wondered wistfully if they’d ever go home afterward and work it off in bed—like a date. A pretty brown-haired waitress came over to the table just as Ben got there. Jude tried to hand him the drink menu, but he waved it off. Jude ordered a margarita while Ben just asked for a soda.
“You look… better.” Jude struggled for a different word, searching among the adobe-inspired paintings on the wall behind Ben’s head. He’d never been good at initiating difficult conversations. Ben grabbed a couple of chips, dipped them into the chunky salsa, and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.
“Better than drooling on your chest because I fell asleep out of pure exhaustion?” Ben asked, and Jude loved remembering how sweet and peaceful Ben had looked as he slept. More than that, he loved the way Ben felt in his arms when Jude dared to hold him as he slept. Nothing would ever feel as good as Ben in his arms.
“You were fine. Besides, I fell asleep too,” Jude assured him as he schooled his features into something that didn’t resemble a lovesick puppy. As much as he wanted to tell Ben how he felt, he couldn’t risk losing their friendship. Ben had never shown any real interest in Jude, even after they spent that wonderful night drunk and fucking. He’d spent more nights in the last three years jacking off to that memory, wishing for a replay. Pathetic didn’t even start to describe it. The fact that Ben got off getting his ass beat just added another layer of distance between them.
“It’s enough that you take care of me when I’m loaded. If you start taking care of me when I’m depressed too, that will be a full-time job for you. You ready for that kind of commitment, cowboy?” Ben asked, and Jude’s heart caught in his throat at the words. He merely nodded in response, unable to admit it was exactly what he wanted. Leaning forward in his chair, the admission on the tip of his tongue, he took a deep breath and almost said it when Ben laughed.
“What?” Jude asked, his brow furrowed as he wondered if maybe Ben had laughed at him. Anger and resentment welled up in him and he looked away.
“Who the fuck would want me?” Ben sighed, and Jude’s head snapped back to look. “I’m broken, Julian. I work, I come home, I barely function.” Ben never called him Julian, and the contrast startled him.
“Ben, I—” Jude started, but at the look of anger and pain on Ben’s face, he stopped. He’d been waiting a very long time to tell Ben how he felt, and somehow he knew he would have just one shot. No way would he waste it on Ben’s anger and self-loathing. He knew Ben, probably better than he knew himself, and any admission would be written off as pity. Instead, he deflected with humor.
“Nah, but I’d fuck you anyway,” Jude said with a lascivious wink, poking fun at the night he’d spent under Ben. Ben snorted and graced Jude with a smile so genuine it made Jude’s heart clench.
“I’d let you.” Ben winked back.
Wait…. What?
The server returned with their drinks, and the moment was lost to questions of soups and sides. The appetizer came quickly, and Jude didn’t have a chance to bring the conversation back around to “I’d let you,” but his brain buzzed with it. What if Ben wanted me too? What if he was just too afraid to put himself out there? What if we really could have a life together?
Silenced loomed heavy at the table while Jude dissected each of those three tiny words, both individually and in their entirety. It began to get uncomfortable when the food came and neither of them had spoken. As the plates were set and his eyes found Ben’s, he could see that Ben was edgy, probably remembering the awkwardness the morning after they’d spent together.
“How was work?” Jude asked as he speared a piece of his enchilada. Ben hesitated and then seemed to recognize the offering for what it was. He sat back in his seat, and the black button-up he wore stretched across his gorgeous chest. Paired with jeans and the black boots he never seemed to take off, he looked sexy. Jude had taken care as well, which had probably gone unnoticed, but he liked the blue pullover. It was one of his favorites.
“Well, I had a Camry with no brakes left, a Prius with a corroded battery, but the best one was the Saturn Vue,” Ben said, and a light appeared in his eyes that hadn’t been there at all since he sat down. “That problem was cool. When the girl opened the back hatch, the instrument panel went dead.”
“What the hell does one thing have to do with the other?” Jude asked, not even having to feign interest. He wasn’t a car guy, didn’t give a shit about motorcycles, so their conversations on mechanics were limited. Except he had to know what the hatch on an SUV had to do with the gas gauge.
“Electrical current. It took me hours to find it, and I had to rip up the carpeting in the floor and take all kinds of shit apart. Do you know how tedious it is to check a hundred individual wires for proper connectivity? God, she was pissed when she saw the bill. We had to charge her five hundred to replace a four-dollar wire, but it took for fucking ever to find. Rufus explained that to her as she screamed at him. I had to admit, I admired her balls. I wouldn’t have called Rufus a few of the things she did. In the end, she finally did pay and leave,” Ben said with a laugh and cut into his stuffed poblano. “How about you?”
“I’m an accountant; my job isn’t nearly as exciting. Dennis gave me shit for be
ing late, and I started preparing monthly financials,” Jude said with a shrug.
“I’m sorry I made you late. As for that little prick Dennis, take me to the next corporate outing, I’m begging you. I promise not to push him off the boat, really I do.”
Jude laughed. Ben had been making that very same promise consistently for the past four years since he’d moved in with Jude. It felt good to know that Ben had his back, even if he could deal with the little bastard himself. It warmed him to know that Ben would stand up for him.
Three
“I’M SORRY, what did you say?” Ben asked as his heart leapt into his throat. He stood with Kage outside Raging Inferno, a new club that had just sprung up on the south side of Chicago. The blacked-out windows covered in iron bars made the hairs stand up on the back of Ben’s neck. As they rounded the corner toward the front door, painted flames lunged at Ben as they covered the building’s front. He’d never seen such a place in his life.
“Fire flogging. I’ve been taking classes and working with a few other subs. Not many Doms in the area are qualified to do it. Your back is looking good, so I thought I’d up our game,” Kage said as they moved up to the queue of people standing outside the door. For a Tuesday night, the place was fucking busy.
“So you would set a flogger on fire and hit me with it? That’s what you want to do? I don’t… I don’t know,” Ben said cautiously as he looked around at the small crowd waiting to get in the door. It wasn’t a gay club, or not just a gay club. There were women in the crowd dressed in leather, either leading men or being led by men.
“I know it’s something that’s not on our limits list, so we need to talk about it. It is pretty much what it sounds like. I would use a Kevlar flogger coated with accelerant and set on fire. The subs tell me it’s like a sunburn.”
“But this isn’t one that you’ve tried out yourself?” Ben asked, because he knew that most Doms had implements tried on themselves before they’d use it on a sub so they would be fully prepared. Again, the fire flogging was different, and Ben couldn’t decide if that made him uneasy.
“No. Hey, if you can’t handle it, I can tell Justin to ask another Dom. He’ll be disappointed as fuck, since he’s been begging to get me here for months, but I don’t give a shit. Seriously, the fire theme isn’t accidental here. There’s a couple more guys that can fill in. It’s just something I thought you’d like.”
Ben glanced around the dim parking lot trying to find answers among the dozens of cars in their systematic rows. He’d been flogged more than once, sometimes until he felt like his skin would melt, but to be beaten with fire, that made his balls crawl up inside him. Kage’s hand landed on his back and rubbed the tension out.
“How did you even hear about something like this?” Ben was stalling, he knew it, and more importantly, Kage knew it. Rather than getting impatient, however, Kage merely answered his question.
“Haven’t you ever seen it done? I know Steel Mill’s got a few videos, I’ve seen them. Derek da Silva is a fucking master at it. He’s got a video out with that kid with the tattoo. What the fuck is his name? Anyway, it was hot, so I called Giovanni and set up some sessions with him.” Kage kept his voice casual, but Ben could see the fire in his eyes. It wasn’t just a reflection of the images on the wall, but a real hunger. After the welts he’d gotten the week before, he figured it wouldn’t be that bad. Kage never caused harm, never made him bleed. Putting aside his fear, he decided to trust Kage.
“I’ll do it.”
The smile that lit Kage’s face and the pride in his eyes put any of Ben’s lingering doubts to rest. Kage spoke with the bouncer, who checked his list for their names, and then Ben followed them up a small set of stairs and into the open part of the dimly lit club. The bouncer, a small-statured but muscular man with a Mohawk, had pointed out a door against the wall opposite and indicated that they would find the owner through there to check in for the demonstration. The vaulted ceilings in the place were high, at least two stories, like a converted warehouse. A bar ran along the left-hand wall with a crowd of patrons in front, jockeying for position. The raised platform near the head of the room sat in a spotlight with several tables around it. Well-dressed Doms and Dommes sat around these small, almost café-like tables with kneeling servants at their feet holding drinks. Ben couldn’t tell if the servants belonged to the patrons or the club until one of the men petted the head of a corseted girl with a touch steeped with too much affection to be casual.
On the other side of the platform, a mural caught Ben’s attention. Floor to ceiling along one short wall, it depicted a Dom in leathers rising from the ashes of a decimated city on wings of fire. With him, he lifted a man and a woman, both in submissive garb, and both watching him adoringly. With a quiet snort at the sheer self-importance of the piece, he followed Kage to the door and waited. After a resounding knock, loud enough to be heard above the din of the crowd and the subdued club beat, the door opened to reveal a small office behind an even smaller man. Ben didn’t know what he had expected, maybe a huge Dom decked out in spikes, but it wasn’t the tiny guy they found. The guy couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five. He had close-cropped brown hair and gorgeous soulful brown eyes framed by lashes almost too long for a guy. In a black T-shirt artfully ripped at the neck, red jeans, a silver-studded leather belt, and high black boots, he looked like a hot little twink just begging to be put into bondage. A BDSM club run by a submissive… interesting.
“Hey Justin, is my equipment in the back?” Kage asked with an air of authority he hadn’t used with the bouncer. The boy practically melted under his gaze. Ben’s hackles rose as Justin fluttered those ridiculously long eyelashes, gazing up through them in mock innocence at his Dom. His hands balled into fists at the blatant flirting. No tender emotions existed between Ben and Kage, it simply wasn’t part of their arrangement; but he relied on Kage to keep him sane, to keep him grounded. He certainly wasn’t going to lose his Dom to a wannabe playing dress-up.
“Yes, Kage,” Justin said, and Ben saw red. Kage was his honorific. Other subs called him “Sir” or occasionally “Master,” but to Ben and Ben alone he was “Kage.” Kage’s huge hand landed on the back of Justin’s collarless neck.
“Go and get it for me, and I will let you address me as ‘Master’ tonight,” he growled, correcting Justin’s behavior and offering him a treat at the same time. Justin glared at Ben around Kage’s back, and Ben smirked at the little fuck. He was used to boys wanting Kage, but Kage was his Dom.
“Thank you, Sir,” Justin said as he scampered off in search of Kage’s stuff. Kage snorted as he watched the boy go.
“Ben, I want you to be prepared for what’s going to happen tonight. This isn’t something that you need to be surprised with, because it can be dangerous. You need to know what to expect and what is required. I’ve been training for this for months, practicing on other boys, and mastering the equipment for you. You’re going to have a handler for safety. He’ll stand right with you and monitor everything to make sure there are no problems, keep you still, and keep you focused. You won’t be bound or gagged because I need you to communicate with me in every way possible,” Kage explained. Then, without warning, he grabbed the back of Ben’s head and pulled him into a suffocating kiss. “I’m so fucking hard right now. You didn’t have to do this, but I’m glad you did. I’m proud to have you as my boy.” It was the first time in their relationship he’d said anything like that, and Ben’s cock reacted instantly. Nothing turned him on like his Master’s praise. Even nervous as he was, he wouldn’t back down, not after that.
“Thank you, Kage,” he whispered against the bigger man’s neck as a hard cock pressed into his abdomen. God he wanted to fuck off some of the nervous tension before they got started, but he didn’t dare ask. He followed his Dom back into the club while Kage closed the door of the office and turned to lean against it as he surveyed the rest of the room. A DJ booth stood empty in the back corner next to the office, and Ben wondered
what kind of parties they had at the club. A long wooden bench ran along the right-hand wall opposite the bar. Several women and a couple of boys, all in tiny leather shorts, knelt on the bench. Facing the wall with their fingers linked behind their necks, they looked almost as if they were being stored there, on a shelf, waiting for a Master or Mistress to pick them out like a toy.
Justin hurried into view carrying a large leather bag, like the saddlebag from Ben’s bike. When he noticed Kage watching, he slowed to a stroll. Ben snorted and Kage gave him an indulgent look. He wiped it from his face when the boy approached and held out the bag with reverence.
“Here you are, Sir. You can set up on the stage whenever you’re ready,” Justin simpered, and it took every bit of Ben’s long, hard training to keep from rolling his eyes. He half expected the guy to drop to the floor and kiss Kage’s feet. No one knew better than he did how well sought after Kage was as a Dom. Experienced with an excellent reputation, he could have just about any male submissive he wanted, and he wanted Ben.
It made Ben hard.
“Are you ready?” Kage asked as he took the bag from Justin. To Ben’s utter delight, his Dom practically ignored the boy and focused on him. Ben took a deep, cleansing breath to calm his raging heart and tunneling vision, then gave Kage a sharp nod and followed him to the center of the room. His Dom walked right past the “stage,” or raised platform they’d seen on the way in, and dropped his bag on it.
Ben’s heart pounded in time with the music flowing steadily through the club speakers. Adrenaline and fear pulsed and spiked within the ebb and flow of notes. He tried hard not to let his hands shake. Fire being hurled against his body on the edges of a whip made of the same material as bulletproof vests. The air froze in his chest and refused to come out again.
