by HJ Raine
The guard checked a list, said a code into an earpiece, and whatever was said back made him nod. He waved a card over a panel mechanism, and the door soundlessly opened. The guard escorted Ellis through a tall stone hallway with more locked rooms. The guard waved the card over another mechanism and a wide, black doorway opened onto stairs heading straight down.
"Enjoy your night," the guard said, and Ellis nodded as the man turned and headed back to his post. Ellis clattered down the wide rock steps with his heart in his throat.
When he arrived at the bottom, to his left was an offset area with a coat check tucked back by two massive doors. Straight ahead was a long corridor where several people in distracting outfits were talking among themselves. Sconces were lit with fake flames, and there were glowing safety strips along the floor's edges. To the right were bathrooms, and Ellis thought it the better part of valor to take advantage of those while he still had the time.
In the stall, Ellis had to practice some deep, slow breathing to get the shakes to stop and his heartrate settled to something more reasonable, like 140 instead of a freaking 170 that threatened tunnel vision and nausea. Ellis wanted to be clear and present for his Sergeant. The surge of adrenaline kicked up the memories Ellis had of being in combat. He'd always liked the fighting, had liked having his Sergeant barking orders behind him. He loved the rush when reality flew by faster than he could think. The anticipation of having Clark guide him through chaos was familiar and good. Once Ellis composed himself, he exited the restroom and stopped at the coat check, shrugging out of his old, worn Army trenchcoat.
"Hi there!" A pretty girl with a top hat perched over dark ringlets chirped from the far side of the coat check counter. Her corset was leather, and her smile was dazzling. "I'll be happy to take your coat, sir, and also your cell phone or any other electronic devices. And may I see your ID, please?"
"Oh. Uhm. Sure." Flustered, Ellis dug through his pockets to pull out his old cell phone and wallet. He flipped open the wallet to show her his ID, and laid the coat on the table. "Here?"
"Thank you, sir." The girl checked a list and smiled. "There you are. Perfect." She took and tagged his coat, put his cell phone in a bin with another tag, and tore a stub. "Your items can be collected at any time using this or your full name and ID, should you lose track of the stub. Do you have any questions or is there anyone or anything I might be able to assist you to find?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ellis said, putting his wallet back into his pocket. "I'm looking for Maxwell Clark?"
"Oh, so you're who he's all dressed up for." The girl grinned at Ellis. "Go inside the club just there," she said, pointing to the double doors to Ellis' right, "and I'm sure you'll see him. Look for the hat."
"Hat," Ellis echoed. "Thank you."
Pushing through the doors, Ellis had to pause to orient himself. The main room was enormous, with obvious square stages set at angles here and there. Across from him was the main stage with a big catwalk, and as he stepped further in, he saw that behind him there was a stage along that wall as well. All the way to the left was the bar, and as he scanned over the people scattered everywhere, he suddenly saw what the girl was talking about. Situated conspicuously under a spotlight in almost the dead center of the room was a man in a floor-length dark duster and a hat. A black cowboy hat, in fact, with silver banding that caught the light. Ellis whistled to himself in astonishment and admiration, and dodged his way across the busy floor.
Clark had his back to Ellis and was shaking hands with a man in a waistcoat and slacks. "Yeah, I know, I know," Clark was saying, turning. "Meeting somebody."
"Lucky kid," the man remarked. Clark laughed, caught sight of Ellis, and his expression changed into predatory recognition. Beneath the long coat, Clark wore a pair of black pants with a dull sheen that were so snug they left absolutely nothing to the imagination. They were tucked into combat boots that came up to mid-calf. He wore a chain belt with a huge silver buckle, and his upper torso was bare except for a black harness with flat silver studs that criss-crossed his sternum.
"Enjoy," the man said, and Clark clapped him on the shoulder before strolling to Ellis in long strides.
Ellis considered falling on his knees right then and there. "Sarge," he said, instead, and couldn't help but compare Clark's splendor to his own camo pants, dress boots, and t-shirt. "I.... wow..."
"Was just thinking the same thing," Clark replied, eying Ellis from face to feet and back again. He tipped the brim of his hat with a boyish grin. "Howdy?"
Ellis smiled, instantly put at ease by Clark, even in these surroundings. "Hey. Yeah. You do that right." Ellis sighed happily. "And look better'n I'd ever dreamed with that harness thing." He reached out and hesitated just before touching one black leather strap.
"Thank you." Clark caught Ellis' hand, squeezed it, and lowered it without letting go. "Still up for this?"
Ellis met Clark's eyes. "Yes, Sarge. Want it bad."
"Me, too," Clark replied. He let go of Ellis and squared his shoulders. "All right, here's how this part's going to work. I'm going to give you the rules in a series of statements. If you understand them entirely and agree to them, you'll give me a, 'Sir, yes sir,' okay?"
"Sir, yes sir." Ellis said, with the old snap he'd always given the phrase on the field, and he automatically fell into parade rest.
They'd attracted a couple of onlookers, but Clark didn't so much as glance their way. "Good man, soldier. One: your safewords for the night are color coded. Green means go, yellow means slow, red means stop."
That seemed simple enough to Ellis, just like traffic lights. "Sir, yes sir."
"Good," Clark barked. "Two, and listen up, soldier: there is dishonor in not calling a yellow or red if you need a break or are in true distress. Tonight's going to hurt at times, but that's different than distress, and the second you're questioning which one you're in, you will call a code. Am I clear?"
Ellis considered for a minute, remembering a time when he took a ricochet in one calf and how that had felt. It'd hurt, but he'd been fine. That sounded like what Clark was talking about, and when Ellis was clear on that, he nodded and said, "Sir, yes sir."
Clark snapped a nod. "Three: there is distinction in helping me make tonight go well. If that means you want more or less or different, you will say so. If that means you need to ask a question, you will ask. If that means we call a halt and play fuckin' cards, we will. The only way to disappoint me is dishonesty." Clark took a step forward and spoke softly in a low rumble directly into Ellis' face. "Do you understand me, soldier?"
"Sir, yes sir!" Ellis didn't think he could lie to Clark. The shame would have been unbearable, and now he understood the courage it had taken to tell Clark what he wanted in the first place. "I'll speak up, sir."
"Damn right," Clark answered at Ellis' volume. His eyes danced, and it was the only warning Ellis got before Clark snaked a hand around the back of Ellis' neck and kissed him, quick and fierce, startling a moan from Ellis. "You're mine for the night, soldier. Let's go." Clark gave a quick quarter turn and headed for a set of doors on the far wall.
Knees weak at being claimed like that in front of everyone, Ellis followed. The geography was a blur. They left the main part of the club and entered some hallway, where Clark turned and led Ellis along a stone corridor, through another turn, and to an arched doorway. They got glances and curious looks from a few patrons along the way, but they were mostly staring at Clark, not Ellis.
Clark reached into the duster's pocket and retrieved a set of dog tags. He waved them over a sensor next to the door, and it beeped. Clark opened the door, entered, and held it for Ellis after he was inside. Clark shut them into the room, which was bigger than Ellis thought it'd be. Probably twenty feet long and fifteen wide, the Crypt held a bed stripped to a dark flat sheet, a chair in which pillows and blankets were stacked, and a trunk against one wall. To the right of the bed was a circular blue sparring mat situated underneath two thick ropes threaded through multiple heavy bo
lts set in the stone ceiling. Lying on the pad was what looked for all the world like a leather jump harness. Next to the mat was a low table loaded with the very familiar tube of lube and strip of condoms and other very unfamiliar items, though Ellis knew a paddle when he saw one, and now he could also identify a flogger.
There was a rustle of fabric and a warm presence drew closer to Ellis' back. Clark put his hands on Ellis' shoulders, rubbed down Ellis' arms, and wrapped Ellis in a loose embrace. Clark's arms were bare, and the ring in the center of the harness pressed warm against Ellis' back. "How you doing, solider?" Clark asked, voice more gentle than Ellis had ever thought possible.
Ellis shivered and remembering the rules, found the courage to ask, "Should I be, like, on my knees, Sarge? They're weak enough now it'd be easy."
Clark tightened his hold. Clark was a head taller and just as broad as Ellis, so the strength of the support shouldn't have been surprising, but it was. Clark's smooth cheek brushed Ellis' ear. "Do you want to be on your knees for me, soldier?"
"N-no. Just thought it's what's done." Ellis found it far harder to speak than it should have been.
"What's done in this room is decided by you and me and nobody else," Clark said firmly. "We set the rules, I hold 'em, and it's all about what we want."
Ellis swallowed. "I w-want this. You holding me." Tentatively Ellis rubbed against Clark, and Clark pressed a light kiss to Ellis' cheek.
"Want... I want to help you... help you get me into that..." Ellis pointed his chin in the direction of the pad and straps. "Don't want to be a deadweight, Sarge, and make you do everything."
"You're nobody's baggage, here, Ellis, and you're doing great," Clark reassured, hugging Ellis close when Ellis sagged in relief. "And we've got all night, so we can take our time. I'm going to be checking in with you like this as we go. Sometimes I'll ask how you are, sometimes I'll ask for a color. Tell me what those colors mean, soldier."
"Colors. Oh. Right. Safewords." Ellis closed his eyes. "Red for stop. Yellow for slow down. Green's good?"
"Well done." Clark urged Ellis to turn, and Clark pressed them close. His hand braced the back of Ellis' skull. His mouth hovered over Ellis' for just long enough to be maddening, and then the vibration of Clark's moan rattled Ellis' lips when Clark sealed them in a kiss. Ellis gasped, mouth automatically opening. Hunger roared in Ellis' guts, and he kissed Clark in near desperation.
Clark matched the force and slowly walked Ellis backward. Clark kissed like a demanding god, and Ellis didn't know how long it went on until Clark's hands were under the hem of Ellis' shirt, lifting it up and off. Clark was back on Ellis in an instant, gaze lazy with lust, and Clark's touch dug into the muscles across Ellis' shoulders and down his spine. Clark tasted Ellis' throat while undoing Ellis' pants, and Ellis groaned. With a quick grin as a warning, Clark pushed Ellis down onto the mat, one hand holding Ellis' arm above the elbow to manage a fall Ellis had made a thousand times on the dojo floor, but never quite like this. Clark bent to work on Ellis' boot, undoing laces, and, after a stunned second, Ellis went for the other one. Together they got shoes and socks off and into a pile, and Clark pressed Ellis flat onto the mat before yanking off Ellis' pants. Clark didn't rush, but the movements were forceful enough to make Ellis' breath catch.
"Fuckin' hot," Clark muttered, sliding on top of Ellis and kissing him again, all Clark's weight crushing Ellis into the pad beneath them. "All this pale skin's going to look gorgeous with bruises." Clark sucked at Ellis' pulse but didn't give Ellis a chance to respond or think. One second Ellis was lying flat, and the next, Clark had rolled and manhandled him up onto his knees.
Clark held Ellis long enough for the room to stop spinning and grabbed the jump rig. "This is a suspension harness. Should look pretty familiar, and it works like what you're used to, more or less. Let's get you into this, all right?"
"Yes, Sarge," Ellis said, the familiar phrase anchoring him. "Just like in training, but leather." He ducked his head as Clark wrapped the entire harness around Ellis' body, setting the thick neck pad around the back of Ellis' neck and securing the first buckle just below the left wing of his collar bone. Clark locked the buckles for both the thigh straps, and Ellis positioned the lower back support in the right place and snapped buckles on the left and right of the strap around his waist.
Clark cinched the main strap running from groin, up torso, and to the strap around Ellis' neck, and he checked all the straps over. "Good," Clark said brusquely. "Brace against the ground, there, soldier."
"Sir, yes sir." Ellis fell forward into a modified push up, still on his knees but with his hands on the floor. In that stance Ellis wasn't knocked sideways when Clark yanked on the straps at his thighs, waist, and across Ellis' shoulders. "Nngh," Ellis grunted in surprise and sudden arousal when the kinesthetics of the whole harness tightened around his entire body. "Sarge," he whispered.
"I've got you," Clark said, one hand gently pushing against the harness. "Ease down right there, soldier. Good. Like that." Ellis lay flat on his stomach. Clark stroked his hair and massaged Ellis' nape. Ellis panted against the surface of the pad and, after a full-body shudder, relaxed under Clark's touch.
"I'm going to put cuffs on your wrists and on each of your legs over the knee. You stay like that and let me work."
"Yes, Sarge," Ellis answered softly. He liked knowing what was coming, liked acknowledging that he'd heard what Clark said, and utterly loved knowing that if he didn't answer, his Sergeant would check up on him. He lifted limbs as best he was able to allow Clark access. The additions of the cuffs on top of the restriction of the harness made it difficult for Ellis to control his breathing. It took him a minute to slow his panting down, but between the straps and the helplessness of his position under Clark, Ellis couldn't do a damned thing about how his hard his cock was against the mat.
"You're doing well, soldier," Clark murmured, combing fingers through Ellis' hair. "Looking damned fine, too, while you're at it." Clark sounded calm and reasonable, as though Ellis was trying on a suit or something, and Clark was commenting on the fit. "When you're ready, just roll onto your back, and we'll get the lines attached. Take your time."
Ellis took Clark's advice. Moving at all was causing all kinds of unexpected sensations to spike, and when Ellis finally admitted defeat and rolled, he knew he was blushing scarlet. With his red hair and complexion, Ellis must look like a strapped fish with a sunburn. But his mind got off that track when the right band on his thigh bit under his ass cheek, and he gasped. Ellis landed on his back, his hips rolled, and his hard-on sprang into the air. "S-sorry, sir," he said, embarrassed all to hell.
"Mm? For what?" Clark asked mildly, but he shoved a hand under Ellis' head and fisted Ellis' hair tightly enough to make the edges of Ellis' vision blurry. "This?" Clark circled a hand around Ellis' cock and squeezed. Ellis choked on an affirmative.
"Oh no," Clark purred wickedly right in Ellis' face. "You don't get to be sorry about that." Clark squeezed again, not stroking and not moving his hand, though Ellis' hips tried to make him. "I fuckin' love that. I want you hard. I want you liking this. You turned the fuck on is exactly where you need to be, soldier. You hear me?"
"Y-yeah... oh, God. Sarge. Yes. Yes, sir." Ellis felt lightheaded. Clark wanted Ellis like this, and the confirmation made Ellis groan, cock pulsing into Clark's grip.
"Good man," Clark said. He let go of Ellis and stood. He grabbed the ropes above them, pulling the lines downward, and they slid easily through the bolts. Ellis figured out they were attached to a secured winch mechanism off to the side of the mat about a second before Clark affixed heavy-duty clasps to the thick harness rings at Ellis' sternum and navel. Clark stepped over Ellis, tugging the rope, and already Ellis felt how it'd lift his head and shift each and every one of the straps.
"Going up two feet, soldier." Clark's warning made Ellis tense, and Clark hit a button on the winch.
The wheel cranked, the rope creaked, and Ellis instinctively grabbed it as it
grew taut. The harness took the load, and Ellis felt his body weight resting on the straps under the bones of his hips and at his shoulders. His back arched the way he'd been taught in jump school, but with an exasperated huff, Ellis realized what he was doing and relaxed. Leaning against his neck support, his feet lifted from the ground, and Ellis laughed when he swung. It was a lot like grandma's tire swing by the old swimming hole.
Clark chuckled and the winch ground to a halt. He picked up a handful of metal from the table and knelt next to Ellis's head. "It's good, huh, kid?"
"Yes, Sarge. It's solid." Ellis rocked left and right. "Comfortable, even."
"Fantastic." Clark smiled and closed his hand over Ellis' where it rested on the rope. "Your arms are going to go behind you, soldier. Give me a green and let go when you're on board."
Ellis looked from his hand to Clark and back again. "Oh shit." Then Ellis took a deep shaky breath. "S-sorry, Sarge."
Clark laughed, and it instantly reassured Ellis. "Don't be sorry for cussing, soldier. Or for saying anything else, either. Reactions of that sort are fine by me."
"'Kay." Concentrating on his hand, Ellis bit his lip. He had to work up the nerve, and he couldn't lie to Clark. So it wasn't until he actually released his grip and saw air between hand and rope that he bit out, "Green, sir." Clark's strong arm wrapped around Ellis' shoulders, and Ellis gasped out a helpless, "Oh." But with Clark's support, it was easier for Ellis to put his hands behind him.
"Got you," Clark said, shifting so one knee was propped beneath Ellis' back. Clark felt along Ellis' arms, and, in a blink, Clark had loosely crossed Ellis' wrists and attached the rings on the cuffs to the big harness rings on both sides of Ellis' waist. It wasn't uncomfortable, and Ellis' shoulders weren't strained, but Ellis definitely had no control over his arms or hands.
