by Eva Gill
Jonah looked up into the eyes of the man he would obey and learn from. Without a smile he accepted the chalice, their fingers brushing in passing. Jonah lifted it to his lips, drinking deeply of the ruby red wine, tasting the heady Bordeaux, along with something else he could not identify, a sweet yet metallic taste.
The smile on his chosen Master’s face sent shivers down Jonah’s spine, and the expression in his ice-blue eyes made Jonah nervous.
“Hello Jonah,” he said, his voice as cold as the glacial blue of his eyes. He held Jonah’s stare, and then, unexpectedly, his smile widened and his entire demeanour changed.
It took a few moments before the power started to flow through Jonah. His eyes closed as he felt warmth rush through his veins, starting at the soles of his feet and ending at his fingertips, raising the hair at the back of his neck. He dropped his head back and stood there with his arms hanging at his sides, the chalice back in Alexander’s hands.
Alexander handed the chalice to a passing slave and put his hands on Jonah’s shoulders. Only then did he speak. “How do you feel?” he asked as he gazed intently into Jonah’s eyes once he raised his head and re-opened them.
Jonah smiled, a little dazed, and answered with the most appropriate and honest word he could think of.
“Alive.”
It was only after this, when his senses returned to him, that Jonah noticed one of the initiates being escorted from the basement, his cloak gone.
“He didn’t accept his chalice. It’s Bailey. It’s a shame, but it always happens,” Alexander said. He continued after a deep breath. “We knew by his choice of Ares’s carving. They never stand the test of time.” He said no more, even when he saw the puzzled expression on Jonah’s face.
All the drama of the moment passed as the Masters led their new apprentices off to private areas to get to know each other. Jonah followed Alexander up the stairs and into the strange music of the main club floor. It was not too loud, and it was hypnotic, the words extremely graphic and descriptive. He didn’t know where he was being led, but he did notice how the crowds parted. Every person in the vicinity bowed to Alexander.
Alexander took Jonah to a private balcony and snapped his fingers as he sat down in an armchair, gesturing for Jonah to do the same. A slave unknown to Jonah appeared, as if by magic, prostrating herself at the other man’s feet, hands outstretched and forehead on the floor. Her high ponytail, of deep red hair, fell over her shoulder as she laid her head to the carpet.
Alexander bent to lift her face and spoke gently. “Persephone, please bring my companion and I one of the best single-malt scotches we have. No ice, only bottles of chilled spring water.”
There was no please or thank you, simply a polite order.
Alexander watched Persephone crawl away, standing only once she was three feet away. “You stood on the carving of the Roman God Janus. Do you know the symbolism behind that?” Alexander asked, his hands crossed over a flat stomach. The cloak he wore pooled at his feet, as did Jonah’s. It was a heavy and comforting sensation, he didn’t know why, and Alexander seemed to wear it as naturally as skin.
Jonah shook his head. “I don’t really know anything about mythology, Roman or Greek.”
“I didn’t expect you to be, but here’s the basic idea. Janus symbolises beginnings and endings, transitions. Your life is changing very fast, and you felt overwhelmed by it all, didn’t you?”
Shivers ran down Jonah’s arms. “I feel overwhelmed, but standing on that carving, all the unpleasant emotions drained from me. How is all of this happening? I am so confused by this place, by the first girl I met here, by the stuff that seems supernatural and unreal, by Bartholomew Black. I mean, what is he?”
Jonah sat forward with his head in his hands and breathed heavily. “I feel as though I don’t know who I am, but that being here will help me find out.”
When he felt Alexander’s hand on his back, he stiffened. Jonah thought of himself as straight, which made physical touch involving men very awkward.
Alexander’s voice was calming when he spoke. “It is normal to be confused and scared during a multitude of change and chaos, Jonah, which is why you have me to guide you.” He removed his hand and sat back. Their drinks were placed on the table between them. Alexander had surely sensed Jonah’s mild revulsion at the contact.
When Jonah took a sip of the silky smooth scotch, he noticed for the first time how handsome Alexander was, and how muscular. The strength of his arms was apparent when his cloak slid up to his elbows, revealing tattoos on both forearms.
“What is on your mind, Jonah MacPherson?” Alexander asked, and with a deep breath Jonah tried to explain.
“I do not know what I am up against here, Alexander, and at this moment I am even more confused, because I have always considered myself straight. I am drawn to you in a way I can’t explain. It scares me.” Jonah felt himself blush as he said this.
With a relaxed chuckle Alexander sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I understand, trust me. I have been in your position. Sexuality is something we define as we grow in our experiences, it fluctuates and changes, and you shouldn’t let what parents or society condition us to accept as the norm hold you back. I want to know what you want to experience, Jonah. How do you want me to teach you?”
Jonah stared long and hard at Alexander before he answered. “I want to know what the girl I saw the first night I came here experienced. I saw her being flogged. I Googled what it was, and she looked euphoric, during and after, when the man she was with touched her. I want to be a good Dominant, but I am the type who learns best from experience. I want to know what a submissive is feeling when I do things to them. I don’t merely want to know the technicalities, or see written theory in a book.” He sipped his drink. “Does that make any sense?”
Alexander nodded and placed his drink on the table. “Do you want to feel what she felt tonight?”
The expression on his face sent chills down Jonah’s spine, and his voice almost failed him. “Yes please.”
Alexander stood, and Jonah followed him from the seated area and up a flight of stairs.
By the time they reached Alexander’s private quarters, Jonah’s heart was again pounding in his ears; he was both scared and excited. He didn’t know which emotion held the highest value.
Alexander walked up to a cross. “Take off your cloak and shirt, Jonah, and then come over here.”
He spoke while Jonah stripped with shaking hands. “If anything becomes too much, and you need me to stop, the word ‘red’ is accepted as a safe word throughout this club, and with me in general play, no matter who I am with. You understand the concept of a safe word?” Jonah nodded and he continued. “I am going to flog you, and it will hurt, but not much. Jonah, I will touch you. What are your limits? What do you find unacceptable?”
Jonah answered without hesitation. “Sex. I am not gay.”
Alexander chuckled. “Yes, I caught that. Anything else that applies?”
Jonah shook his head and slowly, warily, he approached the cross, watching Alexander pick up four, heavy leather cuffs.
As he approached, Alexander stopped him. “Breathe slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Stay in the moment and allow yourself to relax into the experience. You have one word that will stop everything. Don’t forget that.”
Chapter 5
Jonah breathed slowly, in through his nose and out through his mouth, as Alexander had instructed him. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool concrete of the wall, between the upper struts of the cross, as leather cuffs were tightened around his wrists. He tried very hard not to recoil when Alexander raised the hems of his chinos to attach cuffs to each of his ankles. The thought that he was being touched by another man was always going to be a big mental obstacle for Jonah.
He started when he felt Alexander’s hand on the back of his neck, and his voice right in his ear. “I am going to blindfold you now, Jonah. I want you t
o forget your surroundings. Remember the safe word we discussed?” He spoke calmly as he fastened thick black fabric over Jonah’s eyes. The scent of Alexander’s skin and cologne brought feelings to light in Jonah that he had never anticipated.
“Yes, I do.” His voice sounded unexpectedly hoarse to his own ears. He had not been instructed to call Alexander sir, because strictly, this wasn’t submission, it was an experience. Jonah was allowing himself to learn what it would be like to feel the things a submissive would experience at his hands, one day.
The restraint panicked Jonah, and Alexander saw him struggle with the cuffs. His breathing seemed a bit more erratic than calm. Alexander knew Jonah didn’t wish to appear scared or weak, but an experience like this would leave anyone nervous at first.
Alexander placed a hand on the centre of Jonah’s back. “Jonah, slow your breathing. I am right here, I will not leave you alone. Okay?” He ran his hand slowly down Jonah’s back when he saw the affirmative nod, smiling at the gooseflesh left in the wake of his touch.
When the heavy suede strands of the flogger dropped to the floor, Alexander saw Jonah jump at the sound. Nothing gave him more of a thrill than introducing someone to the beauty of flogging, and the euphoria of the rush that inevitably came after. He marked his distance by swinging the whip gently a few times, to gauge how close he needed to be, and then he let the first heavy thud fall on the pale skin of Jonah’s shoulders.
The only sound that came from Jonah was a slightly muted grunt, with every fall of the suede strands. Alexander slowly worked his way up and down the length of Jonah’s back, leaving welts on the muscles, from his shoulder-blades to above the waistband of his pants. Alexander continued until he saw Jonah’s head sag forward, and the grunts stopped, replaced by heavy and methodical breathing.
When he approached Jonah, he saw the young man biting his lip.
“Have you had enough, Jonah?” Alexander asked, but no answer came. Alexander grasped Jonah’s hair and pulled his head up. He removed the blindfold and looked into Jonah’s eyes as he twisted his head sideways. “Answer me, have you had enough?” Alexander repeated the question, more gently this time.
Jonah blinked. “I want to say yes, please stop, but I also don’t, I’m not sure,” he mumbled.
Alexander smiled. The man’s eyes were slightly glazed over, and he was probably experiencing one hell of an endorphin rush.
“Well that was fast,” Alexander said, unbuckling Jonah’s ankles first, then his wrists. He led him to a couch and handed him a glass of water. “Drink,” he said, sitting down next to Jonah. “Jonah, aftercare is important, and I know you might feel a bit odd…” Alexander hadn’t even finished when Jonah lay down and put his head on his lap.
“I hope you don’t mind, this just seems right,” Jonah said. As Alex stroked his hair, Jonah reached up and held his hand. “Thank you Alexander. I know to you that must have seemed like nothing, but it was, just… wow.”
“It was not nothing. For your first time, you handled yourself well. I am not exactly gentle.” Alexander released Jonah’s hand and ran his fingers along a few of the welts on his back. “Sit up, let me have a better look at my handiwork.”
Jonah sat up and turned his back on Alexander, shivering when Alexander ran both his hands firmly down his back, squeezing the muscle, where there would be some nice bruising, and smiling when Jonah flinched. He ran his hands up to Jonah’s neck and held them around it, seeing him relax into the grip.
“Jonah, I think you’re a switch.”
Jonah turned around. “I cannot explain what I am feeling right now, but there is something I really want to do. I hope I don’t offend you.”
With that, he dropped to the ground in front of Alexander, placed his hands on Alexander’s thighs, and leaned in close.
Their lips made contact for the first time. Alexander still held his hands loosely around Jonah’s neck.
Alexander tightened his grasp before saying, “No offense taken, but don’t do anything you will regret in the morning, Jonah.” Alexander forced Jonah’s mouth open, to explore it with his tongue, tasting the scotch they had had before coming into the dungeon.
Jonah didn’t know where to place his hands, and grasped the muscular sides of Alexander’s body, clinging to him through his shirt, as though for dear life. He lost his senses. Alexander’s mouth was velvet on his, his tongue forceful yet careful. Jonah felt one hand move from around his throat and twist in his hair, and uttered a strangled cry as his head was yanked back hard.
“Is that what you needed?” Alexander growled in his ear. “Straight boy? Are you sure about being straight?”
Jonah closed his eyes. “I am not sure about anything anymore,” he said, and then, when the reality of the situation really hit home, he said the one word that he knew would end everything. “Red.”
Alexander released him and sat him back down on the couch, where he leaned forward, his head on his knees.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about a thing. You are going to feel overwhelmed in the beginning. I know, because I’ve been there.”
***
“Let’s go back to the main floor, Jonah. It is late, and I need to check what is happening with the rest of the initiates. I don’t think anyone else leapt into learning as fast as you and I.” Alexander had not removed any clothing for the flogging, but stood back to watch Jonah dress.
Alexander was happy with Anya’s insight about choosing the man; he could see the confusion wreaking havoc on the younger initiate, but sensed he would be fine. Alexander walked straight to a slave wearing pale ice-white, with her collar and cuffs, and spoke to her quietly while Jonah looked on. Everything was well, and all his staff were present, so he could leave for the night. He stroked her back, kissed her cheek and moved back to Jonah.
“Jonah, it is quite late. I am retiring for the night, I wish to be home as I have administration to do. Are you okay?”
Jonah nodded. “I feel fine, and I think going home is a good idea for me, too. I have so much to think about.”
Jonah felt deflated, confused, and wanted to escape the noise. Alexander patted his back and Jonah flinched. His skin felt abused. He looked around, not seeing Anya anywhere, and looked up at Alexander.
“Where is the girl who brought me here the first time? Anya?” he asked.
Alexander leaned closer to answer. “She is at home, it has been a very busy week for her at work, and I decided to be nice.” When Jonah looked at him, puzzled, he continued. “She is my slave, Jonah, she has been for several years. You will meet her again soon, as she will be one of the women you use to practice the skills I teach you.”
The thought was tough for Jonah to grasp. “You would share your woman with another man?”
Alexander nodded. “Yes, we live an open, polyamorous lifestyle, and frequently have other people in our lives. The only thing that never changes is her status as my slave. She will serve no other in the same way.”
The fact that he sounded as logical as he did (Jonah momentarily pictured Spock, with his deadpan face and pointy ears) served to make Jonah more uncomfortable with the idea.
It was obvious to Alexander, too. He walked toward the door, leading Jonah. “I will explain more at a later stage. For now, get home safely and rest assured I will be in touch. Here is my mobile number.”
He handed Jonah a card. When Jonah looked up, he thought for a moment he saw his gym partner walking by, leading the red-haired girl. It had looked so much like Blaine under the hood of the cloak, but he instantly dismissed the thought. It couldn’t have been…
His thoughts were interrupted by Alexander’s voice. “I have my bike parked in our private garage, where I presume your car is too. Drive safely. Take care, now.”
Jonah took a deep breath. “Thank you Alexander, for tonight.”
“Call me Alex, okay? Less of a mouthful.” He left Jonah in the entrance foyer, and vanished back into the club.
The doorman held the heavy outer
door for Jonah, and bowed as he bid him goodnight. Jonah walked to his car, sat heavily in the driver’s seat and let his head fall back against the headrest.
***
Anya sat at the oak-wood desk in her home office, her feet bare on the plush, cream coloured carpet. It was late, but she had case studies to read through before she saw her patients the next day. She lived with Alexander in his gigantic, warehouse-type home, and for her twentieth birthday he had led her blindfolded to a door with a pink bow on it, removed the blindfold, and watched her face break into a large smile as she opened it. The room was a haven of cream and white, with accents of her favourite colour, apple green.
Alexander had laid out a large room to be her private sanctuary for study, and escape from the world, when she needed it. She rubbed her eyes now, and gazed lovingly around the room. Her desk sat facing the door. It was a large piece of furniture, and a window behind her provided daytime light. Heavy cream velvet drapes covered the glass to cut out glare when she worked on her PC. Her chair was a European white leather creation, of the most insane comfort.
One entire wall stood lined with bookshelves, and a reclining, moulded day bed decorated the corner opposite from where she sat. A chenille throw was casually draped over the edge of the leather upholstery. Anya laughed as she thought how cliché the piece of furniture was. It was the type of item that decorated every movie-psychiatrist’s office…
She looked down at the pile of papers before her and sighed; she was deeply exhausted after one of the most strenuous weeks in a long time, and could not focus properly any more. Her psychology practice was a haven for victims of various kinds of abuse, and Anya’s reputation had drawn teenage girls, with struggles of all kinds, to her door. Being able to help these young women made Anya happy, and every time she walked through the doors of her practice she marvelled at how far Alexander had helped her come, from a wrecked eighteen year old girl on the sidewalk so many years ago. He had encouraged her to study, paying for everything. He had taught her to love herself.
