But Gordon recognized that look of triumph on his boy’s face.
Yes, in his heart, Jonah would always be his boy.
“Thank you,” Jonah said. “You won’t regret this.”
But as Jonah returned to his place, Gordon watched him.
I think I already am.
Chapter Eleven
They ended up working until after ten, when Mal and Bonnie and everyone else started yawning like crazy.
“Okay,” Bonnie said. “I’m done. We’ll pick this up again tomorrow. Great job, everyone.”
Tomorrow was Thursday, meaning Gordon didn’t have to teach, but he still hadn’t decided whether or not to stay, even as he packed his guitar. Except he noticed how Jonah wasn’t leaving the green room area.
Where Gordon would have to walk right past him either way, stay or go.
Doyle returned to the green room after showing the others out. “Let me show you two something,” he said, then headed out.
Gordon didn’t know what was going on, but he finally followed Doyle and Jonah.
Doyle led them into the house and toward the wing where Gordon knew lay the master suite. There, he stopped in front of a door with a keypad on the lock and punched in a four-digit code.
“This is the playroom,” Doyle said, opening the door.
Yep, it was a dungeon, all right.
He turned to them, pointing inside to a cozy corner where a futon mattress and fluffy pillows were tucked. “Go talk, go play, go fuck—or do all three. There’s condoms and lube and wipes in the cabinet. The bathroom’s through that door over there on the far side. If you use it, wipe it down or wash it in the bathroom sink, that’s all we ask.”
Doyle reached inside the door and flipped a knob, then tested the lock. “There, it shouldn’t lock you out now. But if it does, the code is 1814. Gordon, you’re welcomed to spend the night, with Jonah, or in a separate guest room, your choice. There are three more over there, just pick one. Make as much noise as you want, this room is soundproofed. And the music channels on the cable box are listed on the guide by the remote control over there. You can turn on the corner lamp and turn off the overhead light for ambience. If you want to use the hot tub or pool, feel free to skinny dip.”
Doyle turned to go but then hesitated. “Oh, one more thing? You two are so in love with each other it’s painful to watch. I mean, painful in the emotional way, because you both would be so much happier if you’d just get back together. Go beat his ass. Take out your rage and pain on his flesh. Fuck him and reclaim him. Make him cry and beg and beat him some more. He feels he needs it for penance, anyway. It’ll make you both feel better.”
That time, Doyle turned and headed down the hall, disappearing behind his bedroom door.
Gordon’s heart pounded, throbbing. All the things they wished they could have had back then in terms of play implements and furniture, and never had the money to afford. They’d made do with dollar-store items they could pervert to use as implements.
It wasn’t until he bought a seven-dollar riding crop from a tack shop that they’d actually had an “implement” that wasn’t supposed to be something else.
And even then, that was designed for a horse, but at least it was a commonly perverted item.
Except for the collar. Gordon had saved up to buy that, and it’d cost him fifty dollars. At the time, he couldn’t afford the cuffs that went with it. Jonah had worn it for four years, every moment they were home and alone—which was most of the time they were home—and it was still curved from the shape of his neck, even three years later.
Just like Gordon’s heart was still shaped like Jonah, even three years later.
He still had the collar stashed in his dresser at the apartment, another reminder he couldn’t bear to get rid of.
He forced himself to stare into Jonah’s green eyes and saw the desperate hope welling up there.
Then Jonah dropped to his knees.
“Please, Sir?” he whispered. “I’m always going to be your boy, and I was an idiot to think anything was better than you. There is nothing better than you, and if you said so right now, I’ll go walk down there, knock on their door, and tell Mal I’m quitting so I can be with you.”
* * * *
Jonah couldn’t read Gord’s expression, and that terrified him.
There had once been a time they could hold silent conversations just through expressions, especially when performing together.
They’d spun magic, they’d had perfection.
And I shit all over it, and him.
Gord stepped out of the doorway, into the room, and shut the door behind him, pausing as he stared down at him.
Three years.
Three years away, and there were new lines on Gord’s face that he knew hadn’t been there before.
Lines he knew might not be there if he hadn’t left.
“Strip,” Gordon finally said.
Jonah leapt to his feet and started ripping his clothes off while Gord walked over to the cabinet on the other side of the room and perused its contents. He selected a few things, but Jonah couldn’t see what from that angle, and he wasn’t going to move unless Gord told him to.
Gord grabbed a sheet and carried it over to the futon mattress. There, he dropped the items he’d selected before he spread the sheet out over the futon and pillows. Then he returned to the cabinet, grabbed something else, and walked over to Jonah.
He snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor.
Jonah dropped to his knees again, and realized it was a blindfold in Gord’s hands.
“You want me to trust you, but do you really trust me?” Gord asked.
“Yes, Master.”
He couldn’t help it—it’s what he wanted to call him. That’s who Gordon would always be, to him.
Gordon blindfolded him, tightening the buckle before grabbing his hand. “Up.”
Jonah stood, his fingers curling around Gord’s. Yes, he trusted him.
He didn’t deserve a second chance, and he deserved to be put through hell, but he trusted Gord with his fucking life.
He always would.
Gord led him over to the futon mattress, let Jonah’s feet bump against the edge.
“Hands and knees on it,” Gord said.
He recognized that voice, too—that was Master.
Jonah’s cock twitched, still trained.
That was the tone Gord always used before when they played, whether it was a bare-handed spanking, or a pummeling, or stripes across his ass with the riding crop. It meant pain…
And pleasure.
Jonah dropped down onto the futon and got in position, praying this meant there was a chance now.
That Gord wouldn’t just beat him and then say, haha, see what it feels like? and leave.
Except he knew he’d deserve that, too.
He listened, but he didn’t hear Gord undressing, and didn’t know what to think of that. Usually they were both naked when they played.
But “usually” was three years ago. They were both different men now.
Older.
Wiser.
Sadder.
He heard Gord moving around the room, the sound of him picking things up, the snick of a lamp switch, then he sensed that Gord turned off the overheads. Music came on, soft rock.
One night, Gord tied him up and made love to him for hours, edging him to a Chopin album Jonah loved. To that day, he still couldn’t hear Chopin without popping wood.
They’d fucked to Aerosmith and Jimmy Buffet, to Sweeney Todd and A Chorus Line. They’d fucked to lightning and thunder and the soft darkness of a power outage while a tropical storm blew through the area.
They made their own music and set their own rhythm.
He flinched when he felt hands touch his ass, then fought back a greedy moan as Gord’s fingers dug in, painfully hard, definitely going to leave bruises the next day.
If he was lucky.
Nails raked down his back, down his ass, al
ong his thighs, up.
He flinched again when Gordon lightly flicked the underside of his sac, not enough to hurt, but more than enough to warn him.
Oh, shit.
Fingers stroked his sac. “I don’t think someone should get to come yet. You came last night. I think someone’s going to have to really earn his next one.” Gordon wrapped a jelly cock ring around the base of Jonah’s sac, and another around the base of his cock, making him whimper.
Holy fuck.
This ride was going to get bumpy.
The bare-handed spanking started first, hard, brutal, and leaving him gasping with pain when Gord finally eased up and took a pause.
But then he was back, this time with a paddle. He laid the flat, cool wood against Jonah’s ass for a moment, letting him process it, before he smacked him with it the first time.
And it wasn’t a love tap, a playful swat.
It was a hard, swinging-for-the-bleachers kind of hit that left Jonah howling in pain.
“That’s it,” Gord said. “I want to hear your pain.” SMACK!
Damn good thing Doyle had told them the room was soundproofed, because he was going to test its outer limits.
There were several hits of that level before Gordon switched implements. This one felt like a riding crop, and he viciously went after Jonah’s ass and thighs with it.
Through it all, Jonah cried and sobbed and fisted the covers, but he did his level best not to fucking move.
He’d take it all, every damn bit of it, and he wouldn’t beg for mercy, either.
None.
He didn’t deserve it, for starters.
He’d show Gord he’d take it, take everything.
That he wanted to take it.
Not to mention he’d missed this part of them like hell. He hadn’t played with anyone but Gord.
Jonah lost track of time. His whole world had shrunk to one small sphere that encompassed only him and Gord and the pain he was currently enduring.
Finally, he was aware of the feel of cool hands on his ass, stroking, soothing him. Gord stretched out next to him on the futon and tucked him against his side. Then he realized at some point Gord had shed his shirt, but he was still wearing shorts.
And he was hard.
Jonah started to work his way south, to go down on him like he used to do, but Gord stopped him.
“No. Stay.”
Confused, Jonah settled in again, breathing in Gord’s scent, wondering what this meant and not daring to hope.
Gord’s hand settled in Jonah’s hair, stroking his head. “I’m still thinking, boy,” he softly said. “Just…be, for now.”
Relieved to at least have that, that pet name restored, made him break down sobbing, in relief, this time.
* * * *
He’s going to have fun sitting tomorrow.
In fact, he suspected Jonah would spend the entire day standing instead of trying to perch on one of the studio’s stools.
He wanted to flip Jonah over onto his back and fuck him, do exactly what Doyle told him he should do.
But still…fear.
Which was why he was now lying there holding his boy but mulling over his options in his mind. That bell couldn’t be unrung, and merely getting a blowjob had already fucked his brain and heart enough.
He needed to be sure.
“What’ll you do for me, boy?” he finally asked.
“Anything, Master!”
Gordon didn’t correct him, because hell, he wanted Jonah to call him that, too.
“Will you come home after the tour? Back to me here in Venice? To stay with me for good?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Even though it means giving up LA?”
“Absolutely.”
He nuzzled the top of Jonah’s head again. “Anything?”
“Anything, Master.”
That made his mind up for him.
“Hands and knees again.”
While Jonah wobbled and did that, Gordon got the items he’d snagged from the cabinet. He put the puppy pad under his boy, because he’d need it, for sure. Then he unlocked the chastity cage and got it ready, and removed the cock rings from Jonah. Gordon pulled on gloves, lubed his fingers, then slid one inside Jonah’s ass, drawing a moan from him.
“You can come, boy,” he told him. “But like this. No touching that cock of yours. I’m going to make damn sure you have a fucking reason to come home to me.” They’d played like this before, years ago. But not quite like this.
He quickly worked two fingers inside Jonah’s ass and found his prostate, started massaging it. Gordon’s cock twitched, jerking as he played with Jonah’s button and made him start leaking.
Then he got him over the edge, his ass contracting around Gord’s fingers as he didn’t stop, milking him until his cock went soft and Gord was satisfied he’d finished.
He withdrew his hand from Jonah’s ass and peeled the glove off inside-out, dropping it to the floor. Working fast, he cleaned Jonah’s cock with a wipe and then locked the chastity cage on him.
The small, metal lock clicked with a satisfying sound.
Jonah groaned, making Gord smile.
Gordon finally removed the blindfold from Jonah, so he could see what had happened.
“Here’s the deal,” Gord said, holding up the two tiny keys. “For the next four weeks, you’re under my direct control. I’ll keep a key, and I’ll ask Doyle to hold the other one while you’re on tour. He’ll only be allowed to give you a key when I ask him to, or if there’s an emergency, like you’re bleeding, or TSA, or something.
“You are not allowed to come. Period. Not until after the tour and you’re back home with me. Between now and when you leave, I’ll decide whether or not you’ve earned a milking like you just received. If so, I’ll be the one who gets you off—like you just did. You’ll pee sitting down, and I’ll take it off you once a day to check to make sure you’re not getting a rash or something.
“Now then, when you’re on the road, we’ll set up a system. When I’m available, and when you’re at a hotel, Doyle will hand you a key while you’re on video chat with me, I’ll watch you take it off and check yourself, and then you’ll have to figure out how to get your cock soft enough to get it back in there—without coming—on your own. I recommend ice or cold water.”
Jonah whimpered, but didn’t interrupt.
It made Gord smile. “If you’ve obeyed me for the whole time, including the eight weeks on tour, when you get home we’ll talk about the future. If I receive a bad report from Doyle that you were fucking around, or not doing what you were supposed to be doing, or it looks like you’re making eyes at someone else? Game over, we’re done. No second chances. Yes, or no?”
Without hesitation, Jonah met his gaze and set his chin. “Yes, Master.”
Gord smiled. “Good boy.” He lay back and shoved his shorts and briefs down far enough to free his cock. “Drain Master’s balls.”
Jonah eagerly bent to his task, moaning when Gord grabbed a fistful of hair and forced him to choke it all down. “You need to work on your deep-throat skills. You used to hold me all the way without any effort at all.”
* * * *
Jonah was in fucking heaven.
Sure, his ass hurt like hell, and he wasn’t sure how he’d survive eight goddamned weeks without rubbing one out, but fuck, he’d do it.
He’d do anything.
If it meant another chance with Gordon, he’d do whatever he was told.
Without complaint.
His cock was already trying to get hard again in the cage, Sure, he’d seen porn of this before, but they’d never had the money to buy anything like this when they were together.
Ice-water interludes would be a staple of his immediate future, he was pretty damn certain.
It didn’t take Gordon long to come, either. And when he did, he forced his cock all the way down Jonah’s throat, choking him, making him take it.
He loved it.
Fin
ally, once he was finished emptying his balls into Jonah’s stomach, he eased up enough Jonah could take a deep breath again, but still didn’t let him up.
“So expect to be doing this at least once or twice a day, too,” Gord said. “And make sure you go to the store and get stuff to clean out with. Because I’ll be fucking you every day. You’re going to start making up for every day you were gone over the next three and a half weeks.”
Jonah looked at him and did his best to smile around his Master’s cock in his mouth.
“Deal?” He pulled Jonah off his cock by the hair.
“Deal, Master.”
Gord tucked his cock back in and got Jonah standing while he cleaned up everything else they’d used. Then he didn’t bother letting Jonah get dressed, grabbing his own shirt and Jonah’s clothes, and leading him back down to Jonah’s bedroom.
It was already midnight, and after laughing his ass off at watching Jonah go through the double torment of having to sit to pee—and realizing how much sitting to pee was going to hurt until his ass healed up—they climbed into bed together and Gord pulled Jonah into his arms.
“Please don’t hurt me again,” he whispered in the dark. “I can’t take it. I nearly lost my sobriety the last time.”
Jonah wrapped his arms around him even tighter. “I swear, Master. I’m not leaving you again. I’m always going to come back to you.”
Chapter Twelve
Thursday morning, Gordon lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling, with Jonah pressed tightly against his body, even in sleep.
He’d started out thinking about this whole situation, whether or not he should actually go through with Jonah’s torture once the band left on tour, then his mind…drifted.
He thought about the duet with the mandolin and the song Mevi and Rich were working on. How good it sounded with the mandolin.
But how much better it’d sound played classical style.
His gasp of breath woke Jonah. “Master?”
Even this, still perfect between them. “Get up. We need to go into the studio.”
Word of Mouth Page 7
