“Don’t touch that.”
Startled, Damon dropped the spoon. It landed on the tile with a clang, splattering the remnants of the broth he had sampled.
“Pick up your mess and have a seat at the table.”
Damon did as he was told. Shaken by the harsh tone in his lover’s voice, he took a seat with his head down. It wasn’t the greeting he was hoping for. On the way home he had imagined a big hug and kiss for telling Brendan about the conversation with his mother. Not wanting to make things worse, he sat quietly, waiting for instructions.
“Where were you?”
Damon looked up at Brendan, who had taken a seat across from him. “Out doing the chores on the list you gave me this morning.”
“I expected you back twenty minutes ago.”
“I got a phone call from mother. She…”
“So, you did have your phone with you.”
“Yes. She was really getting on my back and I had to…”
“Because, I tried to contact you.”
“Oh. Sorry. I forgot I turned my phone off.”
“You’re never to have your phone off to me. EVER!”
“I-I’m-I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“I don’t like to be made to wait.”
“Yes, of course.” Uncomfortable with the glaring silence and cold stare, Damon cautiously spoke up. “Thank you for cleaning the apartment and making us dinner.”
“You’re being awfully presumptuous.”
“Huh?”
“Who said any of that was done for you?”
“Oh, no one, sorry.”
“I’ve not decided if you get any of the stew I made.”
“Forgive me for upsetting you. You must have had a long day.”
“I was busy cleaning up after the mess you left. From now on, I expect you to keep this place clean. The clutter you leave around adds to my stress. While I’m out during the day trying to figure out how to support your ass and work my way out of this shit I’m in, I’d appreciate it if you made sure there was dinner on the table by the time I come home.”
“No problem. Whatever I can do to make things easier for you. You only have to ask.”
“I’m glad to hear that. It’s good to know I can count on you.” Brendan lifted a case containing the studded leather collar and strategically placed it on the table.
Damon’s heart leapt to his throat when he saw it. It meant he hadn’t completely blown things with Brendan. He took the present as an indication he was still interested. It was a test that Damon was determined to pass. “I’m sorry again about the phone and running late. Can I tell you what happen?”
“If you must, as long as you’re not using it as an excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse. I realize I made a mistake. I confronted my mother today. She called. When I told her I was with you, she started giving me crap. I had to tell her to shut up about it. Either she accepts you, or I’m no longer coming around.”
Brendan rested his chin on his thumbs and began massaging his temples. “Your mother is simple minded. She’s easily manipulated by people who spread trash. It’s best you take a break from her. We don’t need the negativity that’s out there to stain our relationship.”
Damon breathed a sigh of relief to hear Brendan refer to them as being in a relationship. “I agree. Is, is that, um, is that box there, um…is it for me?”
“I did get something for you. I’m having doubts, though. I’m not sure you’re ready for it.”
“No, please, please show me. Whatever it is I’m ready. I’m committed to you and wherever you want to take the relationship.”
Brendan opened the case, pushing it closer to Damon. “Do you know what this is?”
Damon gasped. “It’s a slave collar.”
“Do you know what it means to wear one?”
“You mean like in play?”
“I’m not a child. I don’t play games.”
Damon blushed. “Ben came in one to Moresse’s last cocktail party. I thought it was only for costume. He said it’s part of a power exchange between him and Roger.” Damon had been secretly jealous. He questioned how anyone could live like that, but the truth was, Ben seemed to have more confidence around Roger. Wearing the collar offered him a sense of peace he had been longing for. “They say it’s based on mutual respect and trust. Roger is in charge most of the time and Ben likes it that way.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, Ben says it too much to commit to full time. He only wears it out to certain places. They take breaks from it occasionally. Roger said it’s important for Ben to maintain his own level of autonomy. The experience can sometimes swallow you up, if you’re not careful.”
“It’s intense, if you’re up for it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re either in it or you’re not. There’s no half way. Not too many people have what it takes to commit all the way.” Brendan picked up the collar from the case. He stroked the leather and ran his fingers over the studs. “I remember meeting those yahoos. They didn’t strike me as they type with the sac to take it all the way. I don’t want you associating with them anymore.”
“How come?”
Brendan frowned. “Obviously you’re not ready to wear this.”
Damon cringed at his error. “Please Brendan. Give me another chance.”
“Address me as Master. If you want to wear it, you don’t question, you just do.”
“Yes, Master.” Damon held out a shaky hand.
Brendan batted it away. He stood up, grabbing Damon by the bleached blond mop on top of his head. With his neck wrenched back, Damon walked awkwardly around the table, meeting his Master on the other side.
“Lift your chin. You’re not to touch it with your hands, unless I give you permission. This collar belongs to me, as does the person wearing it.”
Damon tried to straighten up to present his neck to Brendan.
Brendan slapped Damon’s head down. “Keep your eyes to the floor. You don’t look at me unless I give you an order to do so.” He jerked Damon’s head back to place the collar around his neck. He buckled it on tightly.
Brendan struggled to swallow. He squeezed out a hoarse “Thank you.”
“Did I give you permission to talk?”
Damon shook his head no.
“You’re learning. Training begins whenever the collar is on. If you decide you want to keep wearing it, and if I find you are worthy of it, then it will deepen our relationship to a level most people wouldn’t dare imagine. Our souls will fuse as one.”
Overcome with emotion, Damon fought hard not to cry.
Brendan yanked him by the harness ring of the collar. “Don’t start welling up, boy. You have a long way to go before this evening is over.”
Damon sucked in watery snot that was flooding his sinuses. I can do this. I won’t let him down again.
“I want to see you in only the collar. Strip.”
Damon’s pulse began to race at the harsh tone. With trembling fingers, he rushed to take down his pants. As they dropped to the floor, he pulled off his shirt, brushing his hand against the collar. He gasped inward, catching his breath in his throat.
Watching his weak sub struggle to contain his emotions while he rushed to follow his commands made Brendan hard. He unfastened his jeans. Gripping his own cock, he instructed Damon to neatly fold his clothes on the table.
When Damon finished, he turned meekly towards Brendan, waiting for his next directive. With no time to collect his thoughts, he was shoved to the floor.
“On your knees and service me.” Brendan pulled his cock out from the slit of his pants and whacked it a couple times against the side of Damon’s face.
Damon opened his mouth like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
Brendan made him chase it with his tongue as he teasingly swung his large rod back and forth. “Beg for it.”
“Please, Master, give me your cock.”
Brendan played with him a little longer. “May I.”
“May I please have your big dick in my unworthy mouth.”
After several more pleas, Brendan finally allowed him access. Damon went to work sucking down his shaft, trying to swallow as much of it as he could. Brendan rammed his slave’s head forward while pounding his member to the back of his throat. Damon was concentrating on not scraping his Master with his teeth while fighting back the urge to gag. To his relief, Brendan eventually had enough.
Knocking Damon back by his forehead, Brendan slapped his erect penis to rest against his face, with an order to lick his balls.
Damon was slathering his tongue around the hairy sacs when Brendan jerked him up by the ring of his collar. Then, he was shoved face forward against the top of the table. The inside of his ankles were swiftly kicked, spreading his legs wide.
Brendan forced entrance with three brutal jabs. Damon opened his mouth in a silent scream. Brendan grabbed a handful of his hair, bending his head back as he continued to pound into him with no preparation. He grunted out, painfully penetrating his slave.
Each savage thrust was devouring Damon’s will and eating away at his spirit. Brendan was greedily ingesting his soul by smashing down any individual thought, giving the message that a slave’s needs were not important.
Damon’s cock was mashed against the edge of the table. It was throbbing excruciatingly hard, despite being beaten down.
“AHHhhh!” Damon cried out with hurt overriding any pleasure.
“Take it, boy!”
“Yes, Master!”
Brendan smacked his thigh in enthusiasm, leaving his mark with a bright red handprint. “Shut it before I gag you!”
Damon reached under the table to adjust his penis and give it a wank. Brendan whacked him in the arm, giving a clear message he did wrong. Placing both his hands back on the table, Damon braced himself for the difficult ride. He took each punishing stab with a clenched jaw until Brendan let loose deep inside his rectum.
Brendan fell on top of his slave boy, releasing the last bit of his Dominant seed. Damon whimpered when his Master finally pulled out. His lithe body shuddered in exhaustion.
When Brendan stood up to stretch, he studied the way his boy’s muscles strained to keep his subservient position, accentuating each quiver. On his toes, bent over the kitchen table with Master’s semen dripping between his legs, Damon was exceptionally desirable.
Damon had a face that required a second glance. The bridge of his nose was narrow. He eyes were a little too set in. The combination was quirky, yet oddly attractive. Keeping strands of his long layers highlighted a bright yellow, gave him the appearance of a brazenfaced adolescent. His pointy elfin chin was often lifted in an air of haughtiness. Brendan had to squash that. It was the one thing he never thought he had to worry about with Ricky. Ricky had more natural beauty without an ounce of pretension. He must have been an expert at hiding his arrogance–the conceit that weakened our bond and drove him into the conning hands of others. Brendan was always comparing the two in his mind. Damon, unfortunately, was forever coming up short. He had to let that go, for now. Damon was here and Damon was devoted. Soon, he will be completely under my control.
Brendan stepped away and walked over to sink for a dishrag. Wiping his crotch clean, he turned to scrutinize Damon. Seeing him strain valiantly to hold his position almost softened his evaluation. Damon’s a good slave. He’s a fast learner. As a reward he decided to offer a little comfort. He went to the cupboard for a large bowl. He filled it with beef stew and opened the silverware draw to take out a spoon. After placing both items on the table, he smacked Damon on the backside, and pulled him up by his collar. “Kneel on the floor while I eat.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Silently.”
Damon flushed with shame. Unable to anticipate what response his Master wanted, he felt stupid. With no other choice, he waited painfully on his knees with his eyes lowered while Brendan ate. His erection, sorely neglected, refused to wan.
Brendan slowly filled his stomach, and then turned his attention to Damon. He nodded his approval. “Are you hungry, slave?”
Damon’s heart quickened at being addressed.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Would you like something to eat?”
“If Master wishes it.”
Brendan smirked. He’s catching on fast.
Scooping up broth, Brendan held a spoonful to Damon’s mouth. “Open.”
Damon flinched at the spoon coming toward his face. Then he peeked up with one eye. Brendan was waiting impatiently. Damon hastened to drop his jaw, praying he was making the correct response. Brendan tilted the spoon to drip into his dry mouth. It slid soothingly down his scratchy throat. Brendan continued to feed him until he scraped the bottom of the bowl.
Satiated with nourishment, a warm glow grew from Damon’s stomach.
“I think you had enough training for one day.” Brendan unbuckled Damon’s collar. “Well done. You may get up.”
Damon clasped his hands around his neck the second it was freed. He hadn’t realized how much weight it was carrying. He was proud of himself for enduring the first trial. “Thank you, Master.”
Chapter 11
Under the Stars
The men arrived at an exclusive hotel on a small island on the southern tip of the Florida Keys by midday.
TJ opened the door to their spacious ocean view suite. “Wow, this place is awesome!” He dropped his bags and went immediately to the glass doors of the balcony facing the bay. “Tide is high. I can’t wait to get my feet in the ocean.”
“I’m starving for real food. Let’s get something to eat first,” Antonio suggested.
Mitch opened up a brochure left on the desk. “There’s a boardwalk not far from here and a trolley schedule.”
“Don’t you want to relax? I was thinking about a cocktail on the balcony and room service.”
“Heck no, I don’t need a rest. We only have a few days here.”
“All in good time, sweetheart. Let’s take a breather, we just arrived.”
Ricky came up behind TJ. “Look at all the cabana’s out there!”
Mitch glanced over Ricky’s head. “Maybe we should rent one. I like Antonio’s idea of relaxing by the water with a few drinks.”
“That sounds nice ol’ man, but you don’t understand how much I miss the ocean. I need to at least take a dip in the bay. The water is calling to me.”
Antonio put his hand out to stop him. “Before you run off to the beach, unpack and put on sunscreen.”
“Sunscreen?”
“The sun is hot. We’re in a record heat wave.”
“This boy tans, Antoe.”
“This man will tan your butt if you don’t do as you’re told,” Mitch interjected.
“It doesn’t matter if you tan, ultraviolet rays are harmful to everyone.” Antonio made his intentions clear by throwing him the sunscreen he purchased at the pharmacy in New Orleans.
“All right, all right!” TJ caught the lotion in flight and quickly stripped to apply it. He then bent over in front of Ricky. “Could you get my hard to reach places?”
Ricky laughed and slapped the backside presented to him. “Sure,” he said. “Do me next.”
“My pleasure,” TJ said with a wink.
“Danny, do want to take time to settle in first?” Antonio asked. “Or are you getting your trunks on, too?”
“I don’t wanna put on that stuff,” he said, pointing to the tube in Ricky’s hand. “It’s gross.”
“You especially need it. You and Mitch are the two fairest.”
“You heard the boss, applesauce. You can do my back, and I’ll do yours.”
Danny rolled his eyes at Mitch. “Fine.”
“After we get the sunscreen on, why don’t you and I head to the local store to buy a cooler and gather some items for a night on the beach?”
“You mean, sleep on the beach?”
“Why not? We could stake out the larges
t cabana.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Antonio, “that sounds romantic.”
“Sure does,” agreed TJ. “I’ll race you to the beach.”
“Wait a sec, someone has to get Nicky outside.”
“I’ll get him, Antonio,” Ricky offered.
“Thanks, that’ll be helpful. I’ll go to the lobby and see if I can rent a cabana while Mitch and Danny go to the store.”
*****
After the men lathered on sunscreen, they were off in their separate locations in less than twenty minutes.
Ricky was walking Nicky along the shoreline of the warm sandy beach as TJ was hopping in and out of the water getting acclimated to the temperature. He began baiting in the puppy who was yapping at the waves. A larger one rolled in nearly dredging the pup causing him to retreat toward the beach. Ricky laughed. “Aw poor thing, he’s afraid of the water.”
“Seems he’s not alone. You haven’t stepped a toe in, yet.”
“Isn’t the ocean cold?”
“It’s refreshing! Come find out for yourself.”
Ricky backed up as TJ approached. “Wha-what are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything. Come on in with me.”
Ricky sidestepped TJ as he lunged forward swinging his arms out to him.
“What’s a matter? Don’t you trust me?”
“Nooo!” Ricky yelled. He dropped the dog’s leash and began running in circles.
Nicky followed, barking encouragement.
TJ chased Ricky around the beach until he finally caught up to him. He heaved him up over his shoulder and ran with him into the water.
“Don’t you dare drop…” was the last thing Ricky said before being dumped over TJ’s shoulder into the Atlantic. TJ dove in after him, scooped him up and dumped him again. Ricky popped up sputtering out water.
“Are you okay,” TJ laughed.
Ricky held his throat, coughing and unable to speak.
“Ricky? Oh, crap, sor…”
Ricky didn’t give TJ a chance to finish. He leaped up from the water wrapping his legs around TJ’s waist and kissing him on the mouth. TJ tried valiantly to keep his balance while returning a kiss. He held on to it for a wobbly minute until a large wave crashed in, knocking them into the ocean.
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