by Leah Blake
Everything he craved in the form of a chiseled, red-hued, shimmering masterpiece.
You’ll enjoy my next choice of punishment very much, lover.
Marcus crossed the short distance to where he’d left Trevor, and released his wrists from the cuffs, then his ankles. The man swayed, his hands on his thighs, fingers pressing tight into his skin and leaving shadowed indentations.
“You have permission to remove your blindfold until I have you situated,” Marcus said. Trevor didn’t remove it with the urgency he was half expecting. Instead, he moistened those full lips Marcus wanted to kiss and sighed. Marcus tilted his head, narrowing his eyes on Trevor. “Or would you prefer to keep my next deliverance of punishment a surprise?”
Trevor’s jaw worked. Take it off. I want to see those eyes. I want to see how much you’re enjoying this.
His sub shook his head once.
“May I leave it on, Master?” he asked. “I enjoy the element of surprise.”
He could just as easily demand him to take it off, but chose to allow him this small reprieve. If the man knew Marcus was standing a foot away from him, perhaps his ex-lover didn’t want to see him.
“You may,” Marcus said quietly. He took Trevor under his biceps and guided him to the spanking bench. He placed both of his sub’s hands on the device. “You will lie lengthwise across the bench.” Marcus brought one of Trevor’s hands to the leg rest that stretched along both sides of the horse. “On your knees.”
Marcus was impressed with Trevor’s agility as he felt his way onto the bench with little help from his Master. He straddled the leather bench, on hands and knees. Marcus gave his ass a gentle thwack with the crop.
“A little further forward.”
Trevor obliged until his fingers curled around the edge of the leg rests. Marcus adjusted the shackles to hold Trevor’s ankles to the bench, followed by his wrists. Trevor lowered his forehead to the bench, his breaths hard and quick, his hips rocking gently.
“I will give you a choice. I’ve used the crop on you. You may choose to continue with the crop, or you may choose between a leather paddle and a short-tail flogger.”
Flogger, baby. Choose the flogger.
“I want the crop, Master.”
Marcus stared at the man, curiosity overcoming disappointment. He finally chuckled. “Ahh, very well. Head up, pet. Count off ten.”
Marcus didn’t bother with prelude. Fuck, he hurt as much as he suspected Trevor did. He didn’t even wait for Trevor to lift his head up before delivering his first round of strokes straight across the lower portion of Trevor’s ass cheeks. With each stroke came a grunt from his sub, the low, guttural response to pain resonating in Marcus’s bones, followed by the number.
He finished, but landed a series of softer taps around each mound of flesh and muscle before tapping the span between Trevor’s shoulder blades. The man arched as much as his restraints allowed, a quiet whimper escaping his open mouth.
“Do you want more, pet?”
“Yes, Master. I want so much more, Master.”
Marcus delivered a second round of strokes, and Trevor counted each one off until he reached ten. The man trembled. His breaths were little more than ragged gasps. He rocked on his knees, the tip of his cock brushing against the leather horse, leaving a moist streak in its path.
Marcus treated Trevor to another round of gentle taps and added light brushes of the soft leather crop on the insides of his thighs.
“Master, oh god, don’t. Please. I’m not…I can’t…”
Marcus pulled back, leaving his pet alone for what seemed the longest two minutes. Only when Trevor’s trembling subsided did he continue.
“Another ten, boy.” Marcus rubbed his flattened palm across both ass cheeks, soothing the reddened flesh, then resumed his cropping.
“One!” Trevor’s voice lifted an octave. “Two!”
Marcus’s mind whirled. Trevor backed into each stroke, then jerked forward as the crop made contact.
“Six!” His voice cracked. “Seven!” Shook. “Eight!”
He’s breaking. Watching Trevor on the brink of control, clinging madly for that last fraying thread of sanity released a new pain-pleasure throughout Marcus’s body.
“Nine!” He whimpered. “Fuck.” Another raspy sound escaped his lips. “Ten!”
Marcus lowered the crop to his side, stricken by the sight of his sub gasping for air. His upper body collapsed against the bench, his cheek resting against the soft leather. His entire body was covered in sweat from fighting the urge to give into release. His hips continued to undulate. Red lines marred his ass, an erotic design of criss-crosses and small squares.
Had any other sub cussed like Trevor had, they would’ve been in for another round of strokes. Years might stretch between them, but the energy that pulsed off Trevor—that heady, dense warning that he was at his wit’s end—hadn’t changed.
Marcus laid the crop on the table at the head of the spanking bench and returned to Trevor’s rear. He soothed his sore flesh with slow, circular strokes of his palms.
“Very, very good, pet. I’m proud of you.”
“T–thank you.” A ragged breath. “Master.”
Marcus closed his eyes, absorbing the firm flesh he kneaded with his fingers as he listened to the satisfying response in the form of quiet moans. His cock throbbed in time with his thunderous heartbeat. Right now, he wanted to sink himself inside Trevor, lose himself within the heat of his former lover.
Pulling his hands away, he resigned to maintaining his role until the bittersweet end of this session. One that was approaching at breakneck speed. Trevor couldn’t endure much more, and he wasn’t sure he could either.
“I see you are not well versed in control, but I am willing to take you under my care for the duration of your stay on Sinn.” Marcus came to stand at Trevor’s head. He picked up the collar and admired the gold tag, which the lighting drenched in a shimmering crimson. “My terms are as follows.” Marcus noted the attentive cock of Trevor’s head, tipping his ear in Marcus’s direction. “You will have no sexual contact with another on this island while bound by this agreement. I will not allow my sub to engage in flirtatious endeavors with anyone but me. I expect you to be available should I call upon you for a session…at any given time. You will obey my commands and live up to my expectations while under my care.”
Marcus clenched ends of the collar to keep from brushing the stray wave off Trevor’s forehead.
“Do you wish to make yourself my personal submissive through the end of this weekend?” Marcus asked. Trevor was nodding before he even finished his question.
“Yes, Master. God, yes.”
“Then I have a couple gifts for you while you’re here.” Marcus slipped the collar around Trevor’s neck and fastened it at his nape. “You will not leave your room without this on. You will not try to hide this from anyone. You will walk this island proud to have been claimed by your Master.”
Marcus went to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. He retrieved a simple cell phone and placed it on the corner of the table closest to Trevor’s head. Then he grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, flipping a switch on the wall that would alert Nathan that he was through, and left the bottle beside the phone.
Marcus began to unfasten the cuffs from Trevor’s wrists and the shackles from his ankles. He helped the weak and trembling man to his feet, taking a brief moment to admire the wide, thick erection that looked about to split open.
“When my servant arrives, he will remove your blindfold. You will find a cell phone on the table by the bench, along with a bottle of water. You will bring the phone with you everywhere. You will not hesitate to answer when I call.”
Trevor nodded, his response nothing more than a wisp of air past his lips. He leaned heavily against the bench, his arms quaking, quivers twitching along his thighs. Ahh, yes. And the man’s cock jerked in a steady rhythm Marcus assumed was in tune with his heartbeat.
“
I need for you to speak your compliance.”
“I agree to your terms,” Trevor finally said, his voice soft and unsteady. “Everything, Master. I agree.”
“I’m pleased you accept my gifts.” Marcus snatched up Trevor’s pants and pressed them into the man’s palm just as a soft knock cut through the heavy air. “You may enter.”
Trevor tried to peel his pants on before the door opened, but his trembling legs almost sent him to the floor, twice. Marcus kept a wary eye on him to make sure he wouldn’t fall as Nathan entered the room, his head bowed.
“You called, Sir?”
“See to it that my pet is well taken care of. Grant him his requests.” Marcus motioned to the table with the phone and water. “Those are for him. Be sure he takes them.”
“I will, Sir.”
“Pet, I will be in touch. Have a lovely evening,” Marcus said.
Nathan took over as Marcus left the room. He couldn’t be in those closed quarters another moment with Trevor, alone. Trevor might be mad with the need for release, but Marcus was mad with the need to reclaim his lost lover. God only knew if his grand plan to win Trevor over would deliver him the happiness he’s been dreaming of.
Or another ax through his heart.
Chapter Four
Marcus sipped his coffee, watching Alex and Jules dress their breakfast plates and dig into their meals. His plate of fruit sat untouched, his appetite uncooperative with his morning routine. Instead, his evening with Trevor plagued his mind, taunting him like the private cell phone digging into his thigh at the moment. All he had to do was call the man and he could see him again.
A burst of shrieking laughter caught all of their attention. The server standing at the buffet on their private dining deck stiffened as he refilled coffee. Down below, along the sandy white beachside, a group of rowdy guests took to the swings that were built to cross the wide gap between docks. A couple toppled off one swing, discovering, as many do, that these particular swings were for single riders without sexual intentions.
Sun bathers lay out on lounge chairs, towels, or waded in the deeper waters off the dock. Many were watching the entertaining couple continue to pursue their headier desires in the crystalline blue lagoon.
“Did you spike the orange juice with an aphrodisiac, Jules?” Alex asked, lifting his glass of juice and examining the rich orange through the crystal. His lips quirked. “Or is it in the air?”
Alex’s stormy blue eyes leveled on Marcus, that quirk of his lips melting into an I-know-your-game grin. Jules shot Marcus a lingering glance before turning back to his breakfast.
Marcus kicked up a bare foot on the empty chair beside him and settled back, elbows perched on the arms. “It’s always in the air here. Why do you think we have return guests?”
“Satisfaction guaranteed, as long as you’re willing to play the games to get it,” Alex said with a smirk. He brought a piece of bacon to his lips and winked. “Someone’s playing hard. Surprised he’s not here dining with us.”
“I’m letting him simmer for a while. After all, he’s the one who left me.”
“Remember what I told you, Marcus,” Jules said, lifting shuttered eyes to him. Sure, Marcus knew that look anywhere. Don’t cross Julian Stark or you’ll be very, very sorry, and not the receiving end of a crop sorry.
“That’s in my Midnight room. Out here, brother, where the kitties like to frolic, it’s open game.” Marcus shifted his attention back to the small bungalows that dotted the lush green hillside. The cheapest accommodations, and where Trevor was staying.
If he believed in coincidence, he’d be fast on a track to scream the word when his focus of affection emerged from the curtain-shrouded bungalow and leaned up on the wooden railing of his short porch.
“Can’t help recognition, can you Jules?” Marcus asked, tipping back the rest of his coffee and pressing to his feet, ignoring Julian’s potent stare and Alex’s lingering grin. He smoothed back his hair and tied it at his nape with an elastic, but the ever-blowing ocean breeze whipped a few stubborn strands over his forehead. “On that note,” he grabbed an apple, gave it a short toss into the air, and caught it with a smile, “I’m heading out for a walk. See if there’s anyone I might…recognize.”
Marcus left Sunrise, the island’s premiere restaurant, and took the scenic route down the tropical path, eating his apple. He crossed the narrow paved roadway at the bottom of the path, and came out by one of the many stretches of pristine white beach. The sun spilled down over Sinn, reflecting a magical silver from the crystal-clear blue waters. He slipped off his shoes and stepped into the warm sand, absorbing the sunrays heating his skin through the thin white shirt. Guests waded in the water, watched closely by Sinn’s security guards from Breakers who doubled as lifeguards and groundsmen during the day.
“Another day in sexual paradise,” Marcus murmured, watching a group of women with their colorful drinks and high-pitched laughter brush by him. Behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, he observed their quiet whispers and lingering gazes, but not even their bare breasts bouncing with each step or their unnaturally slender figures could garner a reaction from him.
He wanted one thing, one man, who he hoped would come down from his rented bungalow soon. Desire singed his flesh more than the women still allowing their gazes to shamelessly peruse him. The very image of Trevor, his thick sandy hair mussed by the breeze, the fine-toned muscles that roped his arms and legs, and created a mouthwatering geography down his torso, claimed his attention.
Five years have treated you mighty fine, baby. Mighty fine.
Fuck, to have his hands on Trevor again, to feel and trace and mold to each curve and dip of his form, would put an end to this nightmare he’d been living since his lover left. Sure, he had resources to find the man. He could’ve just as easily shown up at the apartment where one of said resources tracked Trevor to in Nevada.
Marcus rubbed his palm along his jaw, recalling that decision with renewed anguish. A chill slithered along his gut, twisting until he thought he’d purge his apple. His heart ached, a visceral response to the painful memory of having the only one he ever loved abandon him without an explanation.
He had a bag packed, his informant standing in the living room, waiting for his cue to take Marcus to the airport. A black unknown refused to let him leave his condo that night, the invisible barrier at his front door rooting his feet where he stood. He watched the informant from the corridor, eyeing him curiously. At last, Marcus dropped his bag on the floor, handed over the envelope of cash for the services, and closed the door without a word.
He had cried that evening, pouring his soul out to his desolate home, a place Trevor had added so much color and life to with his sense-seducing art.
A sharp breath left his lips. Last night, he fought back every basic instinct to forego the rules of Breakers and claim Trevor. It took every waking ounce of strength to maintain his role as Master, a role that came so naturally with any other sub.
“Not with you,” he whispered to the rolling ocean waves as they slid up over the sand.
Marcus sucked in a deep breath, expanding the sudden cinch in his lungs, slipped a hand in the pockets of his khakis and wandered over to the bar. At eleven in the morning, the stools were packed with patrons, and the guests hitting up the sand for color were putting the servers to work. The island was a nonstop party haven from Thursday night through Sunday morning before everyone returned to their prim and proper drudgery of a life in the States.
“G’mornin’, Sir. Champagne?” the bartender asked. Marcus wagged a finger with a vague shake of his head. The bartender quirked a brow.
“Mineral water will do fine for now,” he said. “I’d like to enjoy a few hours of this day before tipping some back.”
The young man nodded. Marcus cast a shuttered glance toward the road, anxious to see if Trevor had plans to take in the island. He was curious to know what brought the man to Sinn, before he pieced together his shattered hopes. For all
Marcus knew, Trevor was looking for a taste of what they had once shared on an exquisite treat to this elite island.
That whispering voice called Subconscious mocked his assumption. He wouldn’t come here unless he was here looking for someone.
That much he knew. Trevor came from a financially unstable home and he was careful with each dollar he spent. The man didn’t think he could have the luxuries of vacations or top-notch dinners. Marcus had introduced him to the fancier things in life, those small treats that he knew his lover deserved more than any other.
Trevor appreciated everything. That was one characteristic that set him apart from every other person Marcus had ever had a relationship with, male or female.
The bartender returned with a crystal wine glass filled with sparkling water. “Lime, Sir?”
“This’ll be fine. Charge it to my account.” After dropping a fifty on the tile countertop for the bartender, he made a round of the beach, making mental notes of anything that might need improvement or change. This was his self-appointed weekly job, figuring ways to improve the accommodations now that they had a nice list of return guests.
As he came up along the palm tree border of the beach, he caught the familiar gait and stance of Trevor approaching the edge of the road. Marcus paused, admiring Trevor’s confidence amidst a scene he never felt comfortable in. Riches and luxuries set him on edge. His former lover preferred the small room in the condo Marcus transformed into Trevor’s personal art studio. If he wasn’t there, he was with Marcus, in bed, on the yacht, or any number of places Marcus brought him.
There he stood, like a godforsaken sculpture in his faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged his body, and Marcus couldn’t stop his cock from rising or his heart from sputtering up in tempo.
Trevor hung his thumbs on his belt. The man wore the collar Marcus had gifted him the night before, causing his cock to jerk. He felt for the phone in his pocket and fought the smile that wanted to creep over his mouth.
