First Rodeo (The Cowboy and the Dom Book 1)

by Jodi Payne

  “Yeah. He kept everything in boxes. He always did.” Sam looked down at their hands. “I’m not that way. I’m way simpler.”

  Simpler. Sam. Sam whose mind moved at lightning speed. He wasn’t about to assume he understood what Sam was telling him.

  “Tell me what you mean.”

  “James had teacher-James, fighter-James, Vegas-James. I’m just Sam. Here, at work, at the club, online—I’m just Sam. I guess, in that, I’m more like Bowie.”

  He nodded along as Sam talked about James. That was exactly the man he’d known. And while he understood conceptually what Sam was telling him, what did being “just Sam” mean in practice?

  “If we go back to your question about intimacy, about sex…are you suggesting you might prefer not to have those sorts of boundaries? That you’d like to try integrating our various roles?”

  “I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. I worry about you, about your heart.”

  His heart. It might be a little bit broken and a little sore, but it was healing steadily. His heart was one thing he wasn’t worried about. It was the only thing he knew had a clear path. “Don’t worry. I think my heart is safe with you.”

  “Yes.” That was pure confidence. No question, and it made Thomas smile. “So, would you want to…how did you put it? Integrate? Would that freak you out?”

  “I want to try anything that interests you. Anything at all. I’m interested in what ‘just Sam’ might bring to the table.” He was interested in trying out some of his favorite toys in the bedroom too.

  “I think that…” Sam pursed his lips, censoring himself. Thomas waited for a second, then pressed his hand firmly against Sam’s chest, and the words just popped out. “I think that I am interested in the sexual aspects with you.”

  He smiled. Every bit of him, every little nerve ending was interested in what Sam, what his boy, had to say. He leaned in, lips close to Sam’s ear, his voice a rough whisper. “So, what you’re saying, my own, is that you’d like me to tie you up and fuck you. Or…perhaps flog you until you come?”

  Sam’s eyes went wide, the scent of sudden arousal like a drug. It was heady, addictive, and absolutely nothing compared to the husky sound of “Yes, Sir.”

  Oh, fuck.

  The rush was so intense it made him light-headed. He licked his lips and swallowed, his cock stretched in his jeans, and a groan escaped from deep in his chest, loud and involuntary. “Good boy. On your feet.”

  He helped his boy to his feet, or to be fair, they actually helped each other. “Clean up in here and just stand right where you are and wait for me. I’ll be right back.”

  He might have gotten an acknowledgment, but he didn’t wait to hear it. He didn’t need to. The boy was moving instantly. He headed for his playroom, knowing exactly what he wanted; he would just need a moment to select the right tools.

  He returned with his hands full to find Sam waiting exactly as he’d asked. He looked his boy over eagerly and laid everything out on the bedside table. If this was going to be a regular venue for their activities, he would task the boy with finding a small chest he could keep a few things in.

  “Strip, please. Don’t rush, but take everything off.” God. He couldn’t believe how gravelly his voice sounded, even in his own ears. The boy had him high already. He was going to have to take a few breaths and find his focus for what he had in mind.

  The T-shirt went first, baring that perfect belly, hard nipples; then Sam eased off his borrowed pair of sweats, taking the tighty-whities with them. Sam folded everything and set it aside, giving him a view of that ink, of Sam’s tiny ass.

  So fine, and all his.

  He picked up a pair of cuffs and stepped in front of his boy. “You are lovely, boy. You’re breathing, yes? This will be much less fun if you forget to breathe.”

  He shifted the padded cuffs from one hand to the other, letting the short but thick and heavy chain jangle, the metallic sound bright in the quiet room.

  “I’ll try to remember that.” Sam shivered, eyes fastened on him. “No locking the knees; no passing out.”

  He allowed himself a bit of a smile and took a breath himself. “Show me your wrists, please. Palms facing one another.”

  He waited for Sam to comply, then began fastening the cuffs on, thick silver buckles standing out against the stiff black leather.

  “We’re going to revisit safe words first. ‘Revolver’ is your full-stop. You use that word when you’ve had enough, when you need something immediately. Yes? So, if I hear ‘revolver,’ then the cuffs come off, the scene ends, and I see to your needs. No hesitation. However, there are many instances in sexual play, and when tools that offer sharper sensations like cold, hot, and pain are in use, that a yellow light rather than red is more desirable. A pause button you can use when you just need a minute to breathe, to regroup. Or to decide if you need to use your full stop. Do you understand?”

  Sam nodded, eyes on the cuffs. “Yes, Sir, I do. That makes a lot of sense. I like that. What about you? How do I know if you need something from me?”

  His smile grew wider—he couldn’t help it—and he gifted his boy with a light kiss. “I so appreciate the instinctive ways you care for me, boy. The way you think about my needs. It’s something many subs struggle with. When offered everything they need, it’s easy to get lost in that.” He closed the buckle on the second cuff, letting the full weight of the chain hang between Sam’s wrists. “I am not the one in cuffs, sweetheart. I can ask you for what I need. I can also take what I need.”

  He let that sink in, pacing away a few steps. Oh, he could get used to the sight of his boy in cuffs. They suited him beautifully, highlighting the innate strength, the corded muscles.

  “Do you have a word for me, boy? For your soft stop?”

  “Is yellow okay?”

  “Couldn’t be simpler. It’s fine, boy.” It was what James had used, but there was no need to say so. The word was as common as subs were. He knew many who used the stoplight convention. “Up on the bed, shoulders on the mattress, and that lovely ass up nice and high. I don’t care where your hands are for now—be comfortable.”

  He raised an eyebrow when the boy didn’t jump to it, but he knew Sam was working out what he meant. “Questions?”

  Sam offered him a quirky grin. “I’m trying to figure out how not to face-plant.”

  “Mm. Good luck with that.” He leveled the boy a stern look. “Go.”

  Sam wrinkled his nose, but he moved, climbing up, balancing himself on his knees as he moved the pillows, then used that stunning core strength to ease himself down, hands then elbows. Show-off.

  “Oh, now that is a nice view.” He walked past the bed and gave the boy a swat on the ass. “That’s for not using Sir when you answered my question.” But really it was more because he couldn’t keep his hands off his boy.

  Sam wiggled, muscles twitching, but that was it. “Sorry, Sir. I’m still trying to figure those details.”

  “Not to worry, sweetheart, I understand.” For now. But he’d earned the right to that title, and he expected it to be used. He pulled his little bottle of warming lube off the nightstand and the little beginner’s butt plug. He showed the plug to his boy. “Isn’t this adorable? And it’s the same color blue as your chaps. How wonderful is that?”

  Sam shot him a look, half-shocked, half-unbelieving; but that melted into amusement. “What the hell are the chances of that? I-I got nothing. Sir.”

  He laughed—his boy was so much fun. “And I have a treat; this lube isn’t cold. We can try the icy one next time.” He stood at the foot of the bed and ran a hand over Sam’s thighs, before he reached between them to tease Sam a little, rolling the boy’s balls in one hand. “Honestly, boy, this view. It’s a shame you can’t see it the way I am.”

  Sam’s blush climbed up his thighs, then spread. Sam rolled for him, moving in his hand, dancing for him. Always in motion, his boy.

  With his free hand, he poured out a litt
le of the lube, right over Sam’s hole, letting the warm start to kick in before spreading it with his fingers and letting one slip right inside. Sam groaned for him, the sound raw, sliding right out. Thomas watched as his boy first pressed down into his hand, then back up onto his finger.

  “That’s a good boy. Feels good, right? It should.” He slipped his finger free, slicked the plug, and started working it slowly into place. “I only have one hard rule for this session. You are not to come without my express permission.” He gave the narrow plug one last little bit of pressure, and it seated itself with a pop.

  Sam gasped, pushing up on his hands. “Fuck!”

  Surprise.

  “Isn’t that lovely?” Thomas reached over his boy’s back, put a hand on his nape, and gently pushed him down. “Do you like it?”

  He grabbed a towel and made sure to wipe the lube off his fingers before picking up the paddle he’d chosen. Wouldn’t do to have it slipping out of his fingers.

  “It’s weird, Sir. Foreign.” Sam wiggled, side to side, body testing the toy.

  Thomas imagined so, but he knew it didn’t hurt, probably wouldn’t make much of an impact if Sam hadn’t been so focused on his hole. His boy had no idea of things to come. His thuddy but light little paddle and a couple of nice floggers he’d choose from, depending on how the boy was responding.

  He drew the paddle through the air so his boy could hear it; then on the second swoop, he swung it into the softest part of one lovely butt cheek. It hit with a thwack, and Sam tensed, muscle going rock hard.

  He ran his hand over the spot. “So, this little paddle is just to warm you up a little. Everything is new for us, so I want to know what you think of new things. Like, dislike…I don’t know yet is also a perfectly fine answer.” He brought the paddle down on the other cheek, but a little off-center, so he nudged the boy’s plug along with it.

  Sam clenched, trying to protect his hole, and that moved the plug inside him, making the boy roll his hips. The third smack was easier, and Sam relaxed into it.

  Once he knew his boy was breathing and not fighting the blows, he stretched out the full length of his arm and started up a rhythm. One side, then the other, like a tennis volley, over and over until his arm felt warm and Sam’s ass was blushing pink. The occasional, not at all accidental, nudge to the plug seemed to be more appreciated as time went on as well.

  Sam was silent but not still, moving for him, responding to his touches, breathing with the blows.

  Patient, not complaining, not all that interested. Not the boy’s cup of tea. And not his own, to be honest, if he wasn’t getting a response that kept his dick interested. Still, the pink was pretty, and his arm was warm, and he knew Sam enjoyed the flogger.

  He slowed his blows, made them lighter to let his boy know that he would be stopping soon, then tossed the paddle on the bed. He placed both hands on Sam’s pink cheeks. “Good boy. Not your favorite toy? Not your favorite position? Both?”

  “It’s…cold, Sir. The other felt like—like a part of you.”

  “The flogger? It’s my favorite tool.” Was it that obvious, or was Sam just that perceptive? “I’ve brought three to try, but I need you to see if you can stand for me for a bit. Roll to your side, then onto your back and I’ll help you up.”

  He could get a chair, as well, and might need to if the heavy cuffs and standing proved difficult for his boy. He was considering renovating the playroom a bit to make it more Sam-friendly, but for now he didn’t really want to take his boy in there. He wanted to keep it all new, and he and James had never had toys of this nature in the bedroom.

  “Oh. Head rush.” Sam laughed softly as he turned and stretched, reaching up for him. “It’s weird, moving with something inside me.”

  “It should be more than simply weird; it should be distracting. And since it’s not, we’ll use a bigger one next time.” He winked at his boy and helped him off the bed, standing close to make sure he was steady on his feet. “For now, it’s nice to look at, and that’s good enough for me.”

  They’d lost a little of the tension they had earlier, but he just knew his boy would float on at least one, if not the combination of his floggers, and they’d get it back. He slipped a hand around Sam’s cock, which he was gratified to see wasn’t entirely disinterested.

  In fact, Sam seemed more than willing to get that desire back, pushing into his hand with a soft moan. Perhaps his boy wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed.

  “How do you like those cuffs? I like the heavy chain when I can’t really restrain a sub—this room hasn’t ever been used this way. Maybe I’ll have you add some tie-offs and tethers near the bed, boy. Would you like that?” He was slowly leading his boy to an open section of wall, literally by his balls.

  “They feel…intense, heavy. Like—” Sam’s breath caught in his chest, whether from his fingers on Sam’s balls or his own censorship, Thomas didn’t know.

  He pushed his boy’s back against the wall, caught his eyes, and since it had worked earlier, he pressed a hand into Sam’s chest. “Like?”

  “Like you have me. Like I don’t have to worry.” Sam sucked in a deep breath, right there with him, so present.

  “Comforting.” So interesting. “Good boy.” He gently turned his boy to face the wall. “Let’s find a comfortable position for you.” He helped Sam raise his hands and place them flat against the wall, showing him how he could brace his forearms as well if the chain got too heavy. “Will that do? Is this something you can hold for a bit? I can move you to a chair of this gets too hard.”

  “This is solid for me. Good. Thank you, Sir.” Sam wiggled, settling himself deep in his feet, the stance sure, thighs spread, rosy ass exposed for him.

  “Good boy.” He took a breath and went to get his floggers, tugging off his T-shirt as he went. It was warm in the bedroom now. He laid two of the floggers down close to the wall where Sam would be able to see them. The third was the same tool he’d used the other day, and the one he intended to start with now. “Words, please.”

  It took Sam a second. That head tilt was one hell of a tell, letting him know that his boy was trying to get it, not defying him. “Okay, right. Revolver and yellow, Sir.”

  “Excellent. Good boy.” He rewarded Sam by letting the falls of his flogger swing between the boy’s thighs and gently lick Sam’s balls.

  Sam sucked in a breath and went up on tiptoe. “Damn.”

  Mmm. Yeah. Damn.

  “You’ll remember this one. It’s exactly the same as the one I used the other day. I have two more. I won’t say much about them, but you can assume they get gradually more intense. They’re right at your feet, if you didn’t see them.”

  He shook out his arm and got started, this time beginning with his simple, consistent forearm swing, the falls landing on his boy’s shoulders. God, this was so easy, so comfortable. Sam was the perfect height.

  Sam groaned softly, the sound sweet as hell, filling the air. Oh yes. His boy responded to the floggers, to the way the falls wrapped around his body. That suited him just fine.

  “It’s like a familiar friend, isn’t it? I love how the leather gets softer as it warms. You can smell it if you pay attention. This one just loves your skin. Hugs your shape.” He spoke just loud enough to be heard over the solid thud of the flogger, and rhythmically so he didn’t interrupt the boy’s concentration.

  “Love the smell…” Sam began to move with his blows, offering him little sighs, low moans.

  He could just do this, keep after the boy until Sam’s skin got hot and red, until Sam couldn’t stand it anymore. He’d like to see that. Sam would probably love it, but today he wanted more.

  Thomas wanted to push his boy, listen to him respond, learn what turned him on. What got him off. What got them both off.

  He stopped suddenly, wanting his boy a bit off-balance as he switched one flogger for another. This second one was made of stiffer leather and had narrower falls. He paused, standing close enough to Sam’s back t
o feel the warmth coming off the boy’s shoulders. “My boy. Mine.”

  Sam leaned, entire body trying to reach for him. “God, yes. Yours.”

  He let the boy have what he wanted, meeting Sam halfway and allowing the boy’s back to press into his chest. He rocked his hips forward as well, jostling the little blue plug with his own stiff prick, making sure Sam felt him.

  Sam cried out, fingers curling against the wall, hips rolling in a couple of hungry thrusts. “Oh shit, you’re magic.”

  His boy’s words made him grunt, made him ache. “I’m going to let you feel my flogger, boy. My arm. And I’m going to make damn sure you feel me for a couple of days.”

  “Please.” The single word echoed between them, ringing with honesty.

  “Oh, my boy.” He stepped to arm’s length. He knew these whips so well, had used them so often that he knew just exactly how far away to stand. All the same, he tried out a couple of test swings, letting the ends graze Sam’s pink skin.

  “Yellow and revolver.” He said the words out loud for his own sake and his boy’s, to remind Sam this was for both of them, that Sam was not alone. Then he looked at Sam’s back, made sure he was clear on where he wanted to hit, and brought the flogger down on target, twice. Once on each shoulder.

  Sam bit out a cry, hands leaving the wall, the chain going taut.

  Fuck. His boy was so beautiful.

  “Good boy.” He wanted Sam to hear him. He gave the boy a breath or two to make sure there wasn’t a safe word coming, and when he was confident he wasn’t going to hear one, he gave his next order. “Count, boy. Every stroke, out loud. One, Sir. Two, Sir. Tell me you understand.”

  He needed the feedback, the sound, the words to make sure he was reading Sam well, that he didn’t push the boy too far. He didn’t want to hear “revolver” today. He and Sam had plans.