by J. A. Rock
rolled Aiden over, pulled him onto his knees, and kissed
him. Aiden kissed back hungrily. “Stand up,” Scott
whispered.
Aiden stood. Scott circled him. He fingered the
bruises on Aiden’s ass, murmuring, “Very nice.” He
rolled one of Aiden’s swollen nipples between his thumb
and forefinger, smiling as Aiden’s breath caught. He put
a hand around Aiden’s throat and applied the slightest
pressure. Aiden’s heart sped up. Then he moved his
hand down and stroked Aiden’s chest, his stomach, and
brushed over Aiden’s stiffening cock. Aiden whimpered.
“Get dressed.” Scott motioned to a small wooden
chair in the corner, where Aiden’s clothes were folded.
Aiden remembered bending over that same chair last
night, being told to keep his palms flat on the seat while
Scott strapped him with a thick leather belt.
Aiden dressed quickly.
“Sit,” Scott ordered.
Aiden sat on the wooden chair, his aching ass
protesting.
Scott took Aiden’s chin in his hand and stroked
Aiden’s jaw with his thumb. “You could be a decent sub
with some training,” Scott said.
Aiden felt the flash of anger again. He was a good
sub. Any top would attest to that. It was Aiden who
could afford to be discerning, Aiden who was sought
after, Aiden who reserved the right to judge a top’s
prowess. Something of his outrage must have shown in
his eyes, because a faint smile appeared on Scott’s lips.
“Do you agree?” Scott asked.
Aiden dropped his gaze. “Yes, Sir.”
“Look at me.”
Aiden did.
“Would you consider entering my service?”
“Wh-what do you mean, Sir?”
“I mean… ” Scott leaned forward so that his
whisper blasted heat into Aiden’s ear. “Are you willing
to be trained? Will you come here multiple times per
week to be fucked, whipped, and tortured? Will you
serve me and only me, until you’re the best sub I can
make you?” Scott grabbed Aiden’s hair, not pulling but
holding it firmly. “Will you admit I own your body, and
that your only desire, when you’re in my presence, is to
please me? And do you understand that when you fail to
do so, I will punish you severely?” Scott sank his teeth
into the side of Aiden’s neck and bit down until Aiden
whimpered. “Do you want to learn what it means to
submit, Shithead, or do you want to stay what you are—
a pretty boy who calls himself submissive but only ever
really thinks about his own desires?”
“I do not!” Aiden glared at Scott, startled by his
own outburst.
“Don’t you?” Scott let go of Aiden’s hair and
straightened up. “I imagine you’ve pleased some men in
the past. Men who don’t really know what they want—
who call themselves doms because it makes them feel
powerful but who have no real control over themselves
or over you.”
Aiden’s skin prickled. He knew Scott was right.
Most tops he played with didn’t seem truly in control.
There was usually something a little sad and desperate
about them. They liked to give orders, they liked to have
their dicks sucked, but they didn’t really know how to
earn Aiden’s surrender. His trust.
Was that such a bad thing? Nobody could be a total
top or a total bottom 24-7—that was the kind of shit you
read about in stories. BDSM play could be intense,
painful, and a complete mindfuck—but it was play. It
was meant to turn you on and get you off. “I’ve never
had anyone complain about my level of submission, Sir,”
Aiden said as civilly as he could manage. And you weren’t
exactly complaining last night, when you were shooting down
my throat…
Scott shrugged. “It’s up to you. If you’re satisfied
with what you are, then walk away. Spend your life
haunting the clubs, searching for someone who will give
you what you’re secretly longing for.” He leaned
forward again. “Get out of my house, little boy, if all you
want is to play games.”
“I don’t… ” Aiden paused, swallowed.
Scott lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I don’t just want to play games.” If Scott had
something else in mind besides games, Aiden was all for
it.
“You sure?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Scott took a step back. “Three nights a week.
Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday. You come here
straight after work. The door will be unlocked. Strip,
kneel in my hall, and don’t speak. You may wait there
thirty seconds, ten minutes, three hours, or all night. I’ll
get to you when I have time. I’ll play with you any way I
like. I may whip your ass or stick something in it to
prepare you for my cock later. I may tell you exactly
what I think about your pathetic little dick. I may just
stand silently and watch you sweat. Got it?”
Aiden wiped his palms on his jeans. “Yes, Sir.”
“When I dismiss you from the hall, you go to the
bathroom and shower. You make sure your ass and
groin are shaved.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You then go into the bedroom, kneel, and wait for
me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m gonna push you, Shithead.”
Aiden swallowed. “Thank you, Sir.”
“I know your type,” Scott said softly, stroking
Aiden’s hair. “Pretty little subbie boy, used to getting
what he wants. You take a couple of spankings, spend
some time tied up, but at the end of the night, you get
off. You feel satisfied. And that’s what you want, isn’t it?
You want your needs met.”
“No, Sir.” Aiden flared again, but whether from
anger at the injustice of the accusation or embarrassment
over its accuracy, it was hard to say.
“Bondage, beatings, clamps, collars—they’re all just
means to a more powerful orgasm, aren’t they?”
“I—Sometimes, Sir.”
“Not here,” Scott said, stroking Aiden’s cheek with
his knuckles. “Not in this house.” He dealt Aiden a hard
backhand across the cheek. “Here, you’re just a piece of
shit.”
Aiden’s eyes watered, and he clutched his cheek.
Scott held out a hand, and Aiden hesitated to take it.
Scott’s eyes hardened, and he snapped his fingers.
“Don’t ever make me tell you something twice,” he
ordered, pulling Aiden up. “Let me see.” He peeled
Aiden’s hand away from his cheek and rubbed the red,
swollen patch he’d created. “Yeah, that hurt, didn’t it?”
he asked with what sounded like real sympathy.
Aiden nodded.
“You’re used to being a good boy, aren’t you?”
Aiden looked at him, confused.
“Unless you’re role-playing. Unless you’re in a
scene where you have to be naughty. But in real life, you
try to be goo
d, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Scott nodded thoughtfully, stroking Aiden’s hair in
a way that made Aiden want to purr—despite the fact
that he was still angry at Scott for slapping him.
“No scenes here. You’re you. You’re mine. And
you’re not always going to be able to be good.
Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you have questions for me before I dismiss
you for the day?”
“No, Sir.”
“Your training starts next Monday as soon as you
get off work. Don’t change; don’t eat. Come straight here.
I want you to have the week to think about this, about
me. If you change your mind, simply don’t come
Monday night. But I won’t give you a second chance. Am
I clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Another thing—during the week, as you prepare
for your first night of training, you’re not to touch
yourself.”
Aiden’s jaw nearly dropped. How could he
possibly… especially after being hard all night?
“If you have an orgasm between now and Monday,
I will know.”
How? Aiden wanted to demand.
“Is there a problem?” Scott asked, watching Aiden’s
face carefully.
“No, Sir.”
“I want you to stay focused on me, on your
training, and on what it means to submit. Truly submit.
Not just drop a few ‘sirs’ here and there.”
Aiden nodded, trying not to let his gaze fall. Scott’s
eyes were hard and dark, but there was something in his
expression, a distant warmth, a hidden longing, that
flooded Aiden with determination. He wanted Scott to
look on him with kindness. He wanted Scott to be proud
of him. He wanted to belong to somebody, not just for a
night, but forever.
Where did that come from? Aiden Cole rarely thought
about long-term relationships. He was a new character
every night, serving a new master. This arrangement
with Scott was only temporary—for the purpose of
training.
“I want to hear you say something.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir, what?”
“Yes, Sir, I’ll—I won’t touch myself. I’ll do what you
say.”
Scott patted his cheek. “Yes,” he said. “You will.”
Scott wore a tight T-shirt, and through it Aiden
could see ridges of muscle. He thought about what Scott
had said last night about Aiden needing to bulk up.
Aiden figured he could hit the gym hard this week. He’d
never felt his body was inadequate before, but Scott’s
standards were high. And Aiden was going to meet those
standards.
Scott didn’t speak as he drove Aiden to his car, still
parked behind Obey. It was earlier than Aiden had
thought—just after seven o’clock. As Aiden got out, Scott
said, “One week to change your mind.”
Aiden met his eyes without fear or doubt. “I’m not
going to change my mind, Sir,” he said calmly. “I’m
ready.”
Scott gave him a slight nod, then put his car in gear
and drove away.
As Aiden walked to his car, he noticed two figures
standing outside the club, one tall and lean, the other
short and round. The shorter figure glanced Aiden’s way
and waved briefly. It was Daddy, and the man with him
was Keaton Hughes—the top who was apparently out of
Aiden’s league. For a bizarre second, Aiden wondered if
Daddy and Keaton had hooked up. But they were fully
clothed, standing against Obey’s brick wall and talking
while Daddy smoked a cigarette. Had they been here all
night? Keaton followed Daddy’s gaze, raised one hand,
and smiled.
He doesn’t seem like much of a top at all, thought
Aiden, waving back. Though he had to admit, that smile
was something to behold. He got in his car and drove
home.
Chapter Three
At work, Aiden didn’t even notice the ring on
Hera’s finger until she stuck it in his face for the
umpteenth time and said, “A hem.”
“What’s that?” Aiden asked. They were on break at
Joe’s, the local steakhouse where they both waited tables.
They sat out back, the curb cold through Aiden’s jeans. If
he looked closely, he could see his breath.
“What’s it look like?” Hera lit a cigarette.
“A cheap zirconium ring?”
“Exactly.” She exhaled and grinned. “Kim and
Sloane and I made it official.”
“What, your status as the only three lesbians in
history who don’t know how to use a socket wrench?”
“We’re engaged.”
Aiden tried not to let his surprise show. “Hate to
break it to you, but polygamy’s still illegal. Even in
Utah.”
She swatted his shoulder. “We’re not actually
getting married. It’s symbolic.”
“Symbolic of your what? Your coven’s union under
the Earth Mother?”
“We are not a coven.”
“Kim’s a witch.”
“She’s a vegan.”
“What’s the difference?”
“No pointy hats.”
Aiden shrugged. “She’s always throwing stuff
called, like, ‘arrowroot powder’ and ‘agave nectar’ into
pots. You tell me that’s not witchcraft.”
“It’s dairy-free living.”
“Whatever.”
Hera wrapped her thin jacket tighter around her
shoulders. “You could try being happy for me.”
“Congratulations on your symbolic engagement to
a riptide of estrogen.”
“Thanks. Want some of my granola bar?”
“Not hungry.” Aiden bit a nail and examined the
ragged edge. “So you don’t feel freaked out at all? Like
you’ve got a ball and chain on your leg? Or, I guess, two
balls and a chain?”
“You’re thinking of what’s between your legs. I
don’t feel freaked out. I feel… happy.”
“It’s too bad you can’t tell your parents.”
Hera stared at the shopping plaza in the distance.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Yeah.”
“I think you could. Your mom at least. She’s cool.”
“Right. They had a hard enough time when I came
out. Polyamory? Uh-uh.”
“I mean, they named you Hera. They had to have
known you’d turn out weird.”
“You’re one to talk about weird.”
“What are the odds Joe’s would end up with two
perverts working for them?” Aiden asked. “Welcome to
Joe’s. Our specials tonight are ménage marriages with a
side of sexual deviance… ”
“Speak for yourself. I don’t go in for the whips and
chains shit. Polyamory is not perverted.”
Aiden grinned. He liked Hera a lot. She was
twenty-four, a year older than he was. She was a sculptor
who’d forgone college, deciding she’d rather work a shit
job like Joe’s and sculpt in her spare time than spend
money on a degree. Her
girlfriends, Kim and Sloane,
were pretty cool, though the few times Aiden had met
Kim, she hadn’t said much.
He couldn’t imagine trying to make a committed
three-way relationship work. A one-night threesome was
hard enough. But Hera took the challenges of polyamory
in stride. It really was amazing that at Joe’s of all places,
he’d found someone he could talk to about his lifestyle.
Even if Hera didn’t consider her poly relationship
“kinky” or “deviant,” most people would. And it helped
to know there was at least one person he could count on
to keep his own secrets safe.
Rima Wells, their manager, stuck her head out the
back door. “Break’s over. We’ve got tables up the ass.”
The door shut.
Aiden got slowly to his feet. He ran his thumb over
the nail he’d bitten too short, liking the sting of it.
“Speaking of ‘up the ass,’” Hera said. “You’re
walking kind of bowlegged today.”
“Am not.”
“Was he good?”
“I’m not one to whip and tell… ”
“Like you’d ever be the one doing the whipping.
C’mon, tell me quick, before Rim Job comes back out
here.”
Aiden leaned close to her. “His name’s Scott. I’m
seeing him again next week.”
“Wow, a second date? Next thing you know, you’ll
be the one with a cheap zirconium ring.”
“Shut up. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. He’s a
real dom.”
“Ooh. What’s a ‘real dom’ do?”
“Whatever the hell he wants. He doesn’t care about
what I want—he expects whatever pleasure I get to come
from serving him. I’m going to see him three times a
week. He’s gonna train me.”
“So what, you’re like, his slave?”
“No. I’m his sub, but it’s… real. We’re not playing
around.” Aiden bit his lip, frustrated that he couldn’t
explain it better.
Hera put out her cigarette. “Well, hey, be careful,
all right?”
“Be careful,” Aiden mocked. “Jeez, does being
married to two people give you double the mom
syndrome?” It bothered him that he’d never really be
able to explain Scott to anyone. But maybe that was part
of what was so incredible about this experience—that it
was his experience and couldn’t be shared. Scott made
him feel alive, powerful, full of potential. Scott was
going to break him down and build him back up. No,
better, he was going to force Aiden to build himself back
