by Jay Lygon
“That’s a pretty drastic change, Sam. Are you sure? It’s so far away. How soon are you thinking about moving?”
I’d never seen anything shake Ophir before, so I was surprised that he seemed so concerned. Hector was his close friend, not me. I was just another boy.
“A couple days after I get back from Sundance. There’s not much keeping me here anymore. A couple good friends. You, Joey, Angelena. But I can visit.”
“But what about Hector?” he blurted.
“What’s done is done, and what’s over is over, I guess. Besides, Alberto hinted that Hector is seeing someone.”
Ophir set down his cigar with deliberate care. “That isn’t true.”
Who was I supposed to believe? “I guess Alberto could be lying. He does that. But it’s been over three months since I left Hector, Ophir. You said yourself that there was a shortage of good Masters around, and he’s one of the best. So he’s got plenty of willing submissives just dying to hook up with him. If he isn’t with one now, he will be soon. That’s just the way it is. I think you’ve been trying to break it to me gently. I’m kind of slow about these things sometimes, so it’s taken me a while to catch on to what you meant, but I get it. I need to get over him and move on.”
“That’s not what I’ve been trying to tell you, Sam.”
“I guess I’m just dense, then.”
“You have a remarkable blindness for the glaringly obvious, but I wouldn’t call you dense, or stupid.”
I scratched my eyebrow. “So what’s glaringly obvious that I’m blind to?”
Ophir sat back. For a long time, he said nothing. He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. “I think it’s time I took you into my dungeon.” Then, as if the word tasted bad in his mouth, he added, “Boy.”
***
Why I agreed to go into the dungeon with Ophir, I have no idea. Maybe I thought it would help me get over Hector. The thing was, Ophir knew I was hesitant, but instead of whisking me upstairs the moment I agreed, he told me that I had to wait until he was ready. Masters. There was no guessing what game they were playing.
I didn’t remind Ophir that I was leaving for Park City at the end of the week. There were times I felt like telling him I’d changed my mind, other times I was resigned to it, and the rest of the time I wasn’t sure how I felt, so I left it up to fate. Either he would summon me to his dungeon before I left for Sundance, or he wouldn’t, and the moment would be past us.
Then, a couple days before I left, Chris and Number Three came to the guest bedroom I was using and said that they’d been instructed to prepare me for a session with Master Ophir. They undressed me, took me into the shower, washed me, and dried me off with none of the sweet flirtation they’d showed before. They were all business.
Chris told me to sit on the floor facing the bedroom wall. If that wasn’t strange enough, Number Three put headphones on me and turned on a piece that I think was Beethoven. Whatever it was, it was loud. Then they left. Figuring that I was supposed to meditate, I closed my eyes and tried to get centered.
I had no idea how long they left me there. I got lost in the music. It seemed promising at first. I followed the melody down a mental pathway, but not deeply enough, and I kept finding my way back to full awareness. By the time Chris came back for me, I was frustrated instead of calm.
***
The guest bedroom I was using was down the hallway from Ophir’s dungeon. Even though I knew where it was, I’d avoided it. It seemed like a taboo space. Led there by Chris, though, I had the feeling of slipping into ritual, so I didn’t hesitate at the entrance to the room as I usually did.
I knelt on the cold tiles. Chris gave my shoulder a light squeeze before he left. The faint scent of antiseptic was in the air. It wasn’t the usual sweat and come locker room smell of most dungeons. With my head bowed, I worked to get into the right mental space for submission. It had been so long.
Ophir finally came into the room. I didn’t move or make a sound. His boot heels clicked on the tile floor as he walked around me.
“Limits, Boy.”
“No humiliation. No sex, Sir.”
He lifted my chin. “No sex?” His lips curled into a cruel smile.
“That’s only for…” My gaze dropped.
“For your Master,” Ophir said softly.
“Yes, Sir.”
His thumb stroked my cheek. Moments of silence passed. “To the cross, Boy.”
I rose and went to the brushed metal St. Andrews cross. Even though I knew how the shackles on it worked, I did nothing. Presuming anything with a Master was always a mistake. The challenge to do everything right kicked my mind into heightened awareness.
Ophir set the shackles on my wrists and ankles. It was too late for second thoughts. When I was secure, he ran his hands down my back, across my butt, and down my thighs. The aura of his touch lingered on my skin long after his hands moved away.
“I’ll admit that I’ve wanted to test you for a long time, Sam. I know that you’re a pain slut. I could probably use floggers on you that I’d never think to use on my boys. However, you’re not mine to mark.”
I shuddered as he traced Hector’s brand on my ass. Why did he do that? I’d put Hector out of my mind, and Ophir had brought him back.
“Please don’t touch that, Sir.”
Instead of punishing me for speaking, he asked, “Does it hurt?”
“Yes. No. It’s just that--”
“It belongs to him?”
I nodded.
“Since this isn’t punishment, I’m going to start by warming up your back. My suede flogger may feel soft, but soon, the texture will make your skin sting.”
Please. Yes, please.
He began working my shoulders. At first, it was a light thumping, but before long, as promised, the suede felt like tiny nettles on my skin. At the point where it was uncomfortable, he started working my thighs.
My head rested against the cold metal cross. I wished he’d flog my ass. Gods I needed to be spanked. Somewhere, there had to be a big muscle bear who would like to pull me over his knee. Maybe he’d finally teach me a lesson I needed to learn. He’d yank my jeans down and laugh as I struggled to get away. A strong arm would wrap around me while he lifted his hand high and smacked it down on my ass.
Fuck, I was hard.
Ophir had switched to a harsher flogger. The thin strips splayed out and stung like a jellyfish. I imagined that my skin was getting deep pink across my shoulders. If only a muscle bear would make my ass that color. Spank me harder, Sir. In my little fantasy, his face got more definition. No, too much like Hector. Exactly like Hector. I didn’t want to think about him. Him, telling me I was a bad, bad boy for running away from home. Him, telling me he was tired of my drama. Him, telling me that Papi was going to spank my bottom so hard so that I wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.
Fuck. I sucked in a breath. Would I never be free of Hector?
Ophir’s hand rested on my shoulder blade. “Are you okay, Boy?”
“Getting a little too turned on, Sir.”
In real life, Ophir had yet to mark my butt. I was afraid that if he did, I’d shoot.
“What’s turning you on, Boy?”
“I’m fantasizing about being spanked.”
“Spanked by whom?”
I bowed my head. “Just, just a guy.”
“Don’t lie to me in my dungeon, Boy. I thought you were trained better than that. Who are you fantasizing about?”
It was so wrong to tell a Master that I wasn’t thinking of him. “Hector.”
“I thought you hated him.”
“I never said that, Sir.”
“Do you want me to continue?”
“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. Harder. Much harder.”
I’ll give Ophir credit. He tried. He got out the cat-o-nines and beat me until he was huffing. He finally went for the cruelest instrument in his toy cabinet, a quirt.
I howled and cried, but no matter how many te
ars I shed, it didn’t help. I’d be almost there, moving inside my mind, but nothing was familiar. I walked circles, but realized I was lost. Somewhere close by was something I desperately needed, like it was on the other side of a wall, but I couldn’t reach it, no matter how hard I tried. “I can’t get there,” I sobbed.
Ophir panted. “Get where, Boy?”
“Only Hector can take me there. To my subspace. I’ll never get there. I’m sorry. I know you tried.”
Ophir unclasped the shackles. I collapsed into his arms.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I really tried.”
“Do you want water?”
“Please.”
He helped me to the stainless steel table in the corner of the room. I sat on the edge and sipped water from a paper cup.
He glanced at the mirrored wall. “I have another offer for you.”
I swore I heard something. I turned to the wall, but saw only Ophir and me. Ophir cupped my chin and forced me to look at him. “You’re a slut, Sam. I like that in a boy. How would you like to come to my bed right now? My boys have been dying for a chance at your monster cock. And trust me, my boys won’t be screaming for you to pull out after a couple minutes of fucking. Or if you’d like, I could chain you to the bed and fuck you myself. How long has it been since that perfect ass of yours has been pounded, Boy? How long since you went to bed sore and satisfied?”
Every God’s powers had facets. It wasn’t really a question of good or bad. Different situations called for different aspects. The side I feared most of my power was the abyss of hedonism. If I wanted it, the orgy could go on forever. I could sink into pleasures far beyond anything Ophir imagined he or his boys could offer. Worship would drag me under, and I’d disappear into a non-stop fuckfest. That didn’t guarantee happiness, though. While it was tempting to let Ophir lead me down that path, it didn’t go anywhere I wanted to be. But how to explain that to Ophir?
“Sir, you’ve been more than generous with me. I don’t know how I could have made it through the past couple months without your help. But I can’t do what you want me to.” My eyes pleaded with him for understanding. “I’m sorry.”
The two-way mirror on the far wall rattled.
“What was that, Sir? An earthquake?” I glanced around the room to see if anything was swaying.
I heard heavy feet on the stairs. Startled, I stared at Ophir. His slaves moved in silence, so it couldn’t be one of them.
Ophir’s beautiful mouth curled into a wise smile. “That, I believe, is Hector. He’s either never going to forgive me, or--”
“Hector’s here?” My pulse raced.
The heavy footsteps paused, shuffled, and then came back up the stairs. The dungeon door slammed open. Oh boy. Talk about getting caught with my pants down.
Gods, Hector was gorgeous. He filled the doorway. I was so stunned that my mind went blank. He stalked across the room with that sexy swagger of his. His eyes didn’t leave mine. I was jumpy and so damn turned on at the same time. I’d forgotten what a caveman he could be, and how hot that was. I hoped he’d throw me over his shoulder, drag me home, and fuck my brains out.
Ophir stepped between us. “Don’t you even think of laying a hand on him, Hector.”
Hector snorted as he shoved past Ophir. “All right. I won’t touch him.” His hands clamped down on the edge of the table on either side of my legs. He leaned in close to my face. “Tomorrow. Coffee. You will come when I summon you.”
He stomped out of the room.
I heard him go down the stairs. I didn’t dare speak, because if he came back up, I wanted to hear it. But then the front door closed, and I knew he was gone.
I blinked and blinked and blinked. I still couldn’t believe he’d been there.
“Well, that went as well as can be expected,” Ophir said. He put his floggers back in his toy cabinet.
“You planned this?” That was a stupid thing to say. Of course Hector didn’t just show up in the room behind the two-way mirror. Ophir brought him there.
“I told you that I’d try to help you, Sam. Hector isn’t perfect, but he’s been working hard the past couple months to change his ways. He took a leave of absence from work. He’s been going to therapy every day trying to work past his jealousy. He did that for you, Sam. He never would have done that for me.”
“I don’t like being tricked.”
“Who was tricked? Hector, not you. I never promised you that our session would be private. Besides, I figured that I owed him one for paddling me in front of my Number One. Sometimes, even Masters need a swift kick to the ass.” Ophir saw my glower. He shook his head. “At least meet him for coffee tomorrow and talk to him. He’s been a mess since you left him.”
“Are you trying to get us back together? What about admiring a man who didn’t crawl back when times got rough?”
“You’re not going to crawl back to him, Sam. You’re on your own two feet. It’s up to you, but if I were you, I wouldn’t make it too easy on him. You know how much he enjoys a good chase.”
“Who said I was taking him back?”
“No one. You’re just having coffee.”
Ophir was so smugly amused that I could have punched him, but I didn’t. Hector was going to call me. It shouldn’t have flustered me so much, but damn if I wasn’t walking on air.
***
Pathetic? Delusional? Stupid? All of the above?
Most of the morning was wasted trying to figure out what to wear to coffee with Hector. I dressed in black, wool pants and a black, cashmere sweater. Then I decided I didn’t want him to think I was devastated and running around all emo, so I switched to jeans and a faded t-shirt. Maybe we were just tying up loose ends before we went our separate ways. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.
I wished my cock would quit rising every time I thought of Hector leaning in close and growling that order to meet him.
Thank the Gods Ophir was at work so he wouldn’t catch me pacing by the phone. I was too embarrassed to admit I was waiting for Hector to call me, because I’d been so angry with Ophir the night before.
My hopes were up. I was setting myself up for a crushing blow.
Another winter storm had rolled in over the Los Angeles basin and it had been raining since the middle of the night. I remembered that the first time Hector and I met for coffee, it had been raining. Oh, geez. I was getting nostalgic.
I’d been wearing jeans and a t-shirt for that date, too, I remembered. I didn’t want Hector to think I was trying to relive our past or anything, so I took off the t-shirt and pulled the sweater back on.
Damn. It looked as if I was dressing up for a date. We were just going to meet and talk. He was probably going to tell me that he already had another boy. Or he was going to tell me that that scene with Ophir had been cheating, and now he really was through with me. Wait -- if we weren’t together, was it cheating to let Ophir flog me?
While I tore myself up over those questions, I checked my mobile to see if there was a message. A watched phone never rings. I went to the guest bedroom, sat down at my computer, and tried to work. That little message I’d written to myself several months back was taped to my monitor.
‘You did the right thing.’
I ripped it down and threw it away.
I changed out of my jeans and put on the gray pants because they showed off my ass better. That settled it. I was pathetic.
***
The phone never rang. My mistake, of course. Only three and a half months apart, and I’d already forgotten that when Hector said summon, he meant he’d make his brand on my ass heat up.
I was playing yet another game on my computer when heat seared through my ass cheek. I yelped and jumped to my feet before it dawned on me what it meant. I had no idea where I was supposed to meet him. On blind faith, I phased to wherever Hector was.
It wasn’t our regular coffee house. So much for nostalgia. Obviously this was just a final goodbye. I felt like a dope for being so happy all morning.
<
br /> Hector wasn’t in the line at the cashier, so I looked around. He sat at a small table in the corner where he could watch me act like a total idiot. It was just my luck that he happened to wear that tight, purple t-shirt that made the brown of his eyes and skin stand out. The sleeves strained over the muscles in his upper arms. As I walked over, he rose from his chair. Damn it. He wore his faded jeans that showed off his package. He couldn’t have looked hotter if he’d tried.
