Safeword

by Samantha Cayto

  “It’s too early to be awake.” Crow’s gruff voice startled Carter.

  He opened his mouth to offer an apology for waking the guy, when Crow’s hand slid down the corset, distracting him. The small bite of pain sent a lovely spark of pleasure along his spine and straight to his cock.

  Crow plucked at the ribbon. “Is this new?”

  Carter had to swallow back a groan. “Yes, sir.” His voice came out hushed and huskier than usual. His dick pulsed against Crow’s thigh, making Carter worry that he’d offend the man and end up back in the cage. So he went for blatant flattery to placate him. “It’s special for you. You’re my master’s special guest, and he thought you’d find it pretty.”

  Crow gave one of his trademark grunts. He obviously used the response for a variety of meanings, and Carter figure this one meant ‘yeah, right’. Those roving fingers plucked again at the ribbon, this time harder. Carter couldn’t hold back a hiss.

  “You like it, don’t you? The pain?”

  Carter heard the bafflement in the question. He could only answer truthfully. “Yes, sir.”

  And it was the truth. For the first time in years, Carter felt safe enough to allow himself to find pleasure in a man playing with his body. He knew that would end in a couple of days, but he intended to enjoy the opportunity while he could.

  His dick pressed more insistently against Crow’s thigh. He tried to shift away but Crow held him in place.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “About the hard-on?”

  Carter heard amusement this time in Crow’s tone.

  “Don’t be. I’ve got the same problem. How about you do something about it?” Crow moved his hand to Carter’s head and pressed him downward, tossing the cover sheet out of the way as he did so.

  Carter didn’t need anything more than a nudge to get with the program. He slid down the massive body even as he reached for the rampant cock bobbing above Crow’s radically defined abdomen. He crawled over to straddle the thick thighs and opened his mouth wide to take the rod into his mouth. The relentless training from his master allowed him to take the dick deep into his throat in one swallow. He kept it there, working it with his throat muscles and his tongue, until his eyes started to water from lack of oxygen. Pulling back just enough to take in another lungful of air, he worked the underside of the bulbous head, stimulating that sensitive part until he could take the whole thing down again.

  He braced himself on the bed with one hand and clasped Crow’s heavy balls with the other. When he rolled the tight flesh in his fingers, Crow groaned and bucked. The man began to thrust into Carter’s mouth. Carter kept up with him. He adopted the rhythm of Crow’s movements and bobbed his head in counterpoint to them. He never eased his tongue’s movement, scraping his piercing along the veiny length of the dick fucking his mouth. As with the first time, Crow came in a sudden rush of cum, flooding Carter’s throat, choking him with viscous fluid. He sucked and swallowed it all, not relenting until Crow pulled him away with fingers twined in his hair.

  Panting hard, Carter dropped his head on Crow’s thigh. But the man didn’t let him stay there long. Still grasping his hair, Crow pulled Carter up and over until he lay face down on the bed. His still-stiff cock pressed into the mattress. He moaned and wiggled his pelvis until he remembered his place. Coming was for masters. Stupid little sluts like him had to wait for permission. Surprisingly, it came. Crow rolled to his side and, for a second, Carter thought the man intended to mount him. The idea didn’t bother him the way it typically did with Winters and other men. He didn’t think Crow would hurt him like they did.

  “Go ahead and get yourself off, boy,” Crow murmured into his ear. “Just don’t use your hands.”

  Too happy at the permission, Carter didn’t quibble about the ‘no hands’ rule. He bucked his hips slowly against the bedding, delighting in the friction of the cotton sheets against his sensitive dick. He moaned softly and started a slow pace of humping the bed. He curled his fingers into the sheet so that he wouldn’t be tempted to slide them under his body and grab his cock. He gave a muted cry when Crow crooked a finger around one of the laces and tugged. His cock jerked and he lost his rhythm for a moment as sensation swamped over him.

  “Please, sir, more.”

  Crow chuckled softly before heeding his plea. He plucked every crisscross of the corset like the strings of an instrument. Each time, the flare of pain goosed Carter’s dick until he lost all control and writhed and bucked in a frantic effort to find his release. Crow’s efforts sent him over the edge when the man reached the bow of the corset and scraped his nails across the still-inflamed skin of Carter’s ass. He buried his face in a nearby pillow and screamed out his release. Cum erupted with the same intensity as the last time, an almost painful purging of his need. He ground his pelvis shamelessly into the mattress and shook the bit of pillow his teeth held like a chew toy.

  Finally, he collapsed, spent, his head swimming. He thought Crow chuckled again then the cover sheet landed on Carter’s legs. Then, blessed nothingness.

  When next Carter woke, the sun shone past the edges of the curtains. A naked Crow stepped out of the bathroom. He was toweling his shoulder-length hair dry.

  He gestured toward the bathroom with his head. “Go take a quick shower. I’m starving.”

  “Yes, sir.” Carter bolted from the bed and washed up in less than five minutes.

  Crow was already dressed in jeans, T-shirt and his shitkickers by the time Carter came back into the bedroom and pulled on his pants. He ran fingers through his wet hair, knowing it would look playfully messy, and gave Crow a tentative smile. The man didn’t return the look, merely scooped up the collar and leash, hitched Carter to them and left the room. As long as the guy’s legs were, Carter had to double-time it to keep pace. Crow seemed to know where to go without Carter’s directions. They ended up on the veranda past the formal dining room, where the master always had his breakfast when the weather permitted.

  “Good morning, Crow.” The master was already eating.

  His ever-present bodyguards, men he let play roughly with Carter as a reward from time to time, stood like silent sentinels, as usual. Carter suppressed a shudder, avoiding those brutal men and sticking closer to Crow. In just less than a day, he instinctively felt safer with the stranger than anyone else on the island. When Crow took the seat opposite the master, Carter knelt on the stone floor without prompting. He knew his place without being told.

  The master gestured to the houseboy to bring Crow coffee. “I trust you had a pleasant night.”

  Crow grunted, a dual-purpose one as thanks for the coffee and assent to the question. He proceeded to order enough food for a small army. Compared to the master’s poached eggs and toast, he may as well have ordered raw meat. Carter just hoped some of it would be coming his way. Otherwise, he might not eat for a long time.

  “The boy did please you, didn’t he?” the master persisted.

  Carter kept his gaze on the ground, but he could feel the heat of his master’s gaze on him and the scrutiny sent a shiver down his spine. Crow’s palm landed gently on his head. The touch oddly calmed Carter.

  “Yes, Winters, I was well pleased.” There was an eye-roll tone to his voice. “I don’t suppose we can get on with our deal today.”

  The master chuckled. “Don’t be in such a hurry, Crow. It’s going to be a beautiful day. Spend it swimming in the pool or taking a stroll on the beach. Fuck the boy until he can’t walk.”

  Another chuckle floated through the air, making Carter’s skin crawl.

  “The weapons and cash and the wars men fight them with will still be there tomorrow. There’s no need to rush matters.”

  Of course, Crow’s only response was a grunt. Then fruit arrived and the man focused on eating. Carter was beyond grateful when Crow started slipping him pieces. As well trained as he was, Carter didn’t try to take the morsels himself. Instead he leaned into the fingers and ate directly from them. He caught Crow wa
tching him from the corner of his eye occasionally and thought he saw his lips quirk up a time or two.

  The master watched everything avidly. The one time Carter dared to look up at him, he saw the unspoken promise that Carter would pay dearly for Crow’s indulgence. He didn’t care. Nothing he’d ever done right had kept him safe from his master’s sadistic games. It was the great irony of Carter’s life that the moment he escaped his family’s homophobic abuse, he’d run headlong into a different kind. This time, however, he couldn’t even live with the hope that he’d someday be able to leave the situation. Tired of being afraid, he decided right then and there that he’d at least enjoy what might be his last true experience as a sub in the control of a real Dom.

  Pleased with his plan for the rest of the weekend, he leaned forward and sucked up a forkful of fluffy eggs.

  * * * *

  Damien had legendary patience. He could work a case for years if need be. He had, in fact, played this role of Damien Crow, amoral arms broker, for so long he barely thought of himself as anyone else anymore. For some reason, though, this final push to nail Winters and shut down his operations was making him twitchy. It might have something to do with a perfectly trained and eager-to-please submissive kneeling by his side. The boy had him beat in the patience department, that was for sure. He never seemed to tire of holding his pose, waiting for acknowledgment and contact. Damien hadn’t been able to resist giving him attention, either. He found his hand straying to the boy’s head almost of its own volition throughout the long, interminable day.

  Of course, the promise of punishment always hovering around the kid in the form of the menacing Winters probably accounted for much of the discipline. Goddamn, he hated the look on the other man’s face whenever he glared down at the boy. He seemed almost offended that his boyfriend pleased Damien the way he’d been ordered to. Well, no surprise. Winters was a psychotic control freak. Damien just wished he could reassure Carter that Winters would never be able to follow through on the unspoken threats. As that was impossible, he did the only thing he could and kept the boy close. They’d be spending the night together again too, and Damien intended to give Winters a good show.

  More importantly, he wanted to give Carter one more good ‘scene’ before this world he lived in came crashing down. Once he got the boy into witness protection as he intended to, the poor guy might not ever have the chance to be with a Dom again. While he didn’t know for sure, he was willing to bet there weren’t a lot of gay Doms in Where-the-Fuck, Montana.

  By late afternoon, Damien had had all he could tolerate of Winters’ dubious charms as a host. He excused himself with a regrettable yet necessary leer to take a ‘nap’ with Carter before dinner. Winters smirked as he waved them out, and Damien had no doubt the guy would be heading for whatever room held the surveillance equipment. No matter. Damien was more interested in getting away from the man and in giving Carter and himself a little downtime.

  Pulling the boy in close to his side, he returned to his room. He enjoyed the silky feel of the sub’s skin, except he could also detect fine scarring low on his hips. Someone had marked the boy with something thin and sharp. Had he enjoyed the harsh treatment, the undoubted pain of having skin opened and blood drawn? Somehow, Crow doubted it. Perhaps Carter would if the circumstances were different. He decided he would give him a break and use a flogger that afternoon. Maybe send the kid into that subspace he’d heard about.

  “Strip,” he ordered with a smack on that pert ass.

  He shut the door but didn’t bother to undress himself. Instead, he went straight to his case and pulled out a few items. He held them up to a now naked Carter. The boy sucked in a sharp breath when he got a look at what Damien held.

  “Is there something you want to say to me, boy?”

  Carter swallowed audibly, his gaze fixed on Damien’s hands. “No, sir.”

  Given that the kid’s cock had started to swell, he took him at his word.

  “All right, then.” He tossed the blindfold and the cuffs on the bed and approached Carter with a cock ring. “None of this for now,” he said before wrapping the supple leather around the almost erect dick and balls and snapping it shut. “No coming this afternoon. If you’re a good boy and please me, I may let you come tonight.”

  The sub’s breathing had sped up, another good sign that he liked the play. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Nothing to thank me for yet. Turn around.”

  Carter complied without hesitation. Damien cupped the boy’s shoulders then slid his own hands down the boy’s arms to pull them back. He crossed Carter’s wrists at the small of his back, held them easily with one hand before slipping the padded cuffs on. The last thing was the blindfold. He slid it over the sub’s eyes before tightening the Velcro strap at the back of the head.

  “Can you see anything?”

  “No, sir,” came the breathless reply. The boy yelped when Damien smacked his ass.

  “Don’t lie to me, boy!”

  “I can’t see anything, sir. Truly.”

  Damien smiled, knowing the truth and a little surprised at himself for his mildly sadistic impulse. “All right, up on the bed. You’re going to kneel on the edge, head down like last night.”

  He helped guide Carter into position and pressed the back of his head to get it down. The boy’s legs required adjusting so that they spread nicely. That pretty, sweet ass still had a faint pinkish hue from the paddling. Well, he was about to add some more color to it.

  Returning to his bag, he pulled out the suede flogger. He ran his fingers through the lashes. They were soft, and he knew that used the right way, it could send the boy flying. Time to see if he really had mastered enough of the lifestyle to be trusted. If he passed this self-imposed test, he’d move on to some of the other, more frighteningly sophisticated toys his support team had stocked him up with to make the right impression for Winters.

  He pivoted toward his sub, saw that the boy quivered a bit in his perfectly held position. “Give me your words, boy.”

  There was a slight hesitation then, “Yellow and red, sir.”

  Damien ghosted a palm over one ass cheek, liking how the quivering increased. “Use them if you need them, boy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The time for talking had ended. The show needed to begin, and Damien found himself surprisingly nervous, more so than the previous night. Or maybe that feeling was excitement. Since experiencing what it really meant to top someone, he was surprised by how much he’d enjoyed it. A job it may be, but it was one he’d discovered he actually liked.

  He started slow, almost a caress of first one cheek, then the other. Soon, though, he found his rhythm. He worked a figure-eight pattern across the ass, sticking to that part and avoiding the back. He just didn’t know how a flogging would interact with the corset piercing. The slap, slap of the suede against flesh coupled with the pattern he worked with his arm became hypnotic. He let himself get lost in the play, his focus fixed on the way the black lashes looked against the increasingly red skin. He kept one ear open for one of the safewords, but none came.

  The only sound in the room was their combined breathing. The boy’s heavy inhales and exhales became another thing to concentrate on. As he laid down stroke after stroke, Damien’s breathing synced with the boy’s, merging them, and making him lose himself.

  Chapter Four

  Damien came back to himself as soon as he delivered the last blow of his internal stopping point, having been counting in the back of his mind. He stood still for a few seconds with the flogger dangling by his side. He needed the time to regain control of his breath. The high he felt surprised him. It was different from the usual adrenaline rush in a life-or-death situation. This was far more pleasurable, although he sported the typical amount of wood he did after a fight. He would have liked to bask more in the afterglow of the scene, but he had a job to do.

  Carter remained in the position he’d put him in, still breathing rapidly, having never
said either safeword. With all the abuse the kid had experienced, Damien couldn’t trust that. So, tossing the flogger in his bag, he went to the boy and placed his hand on his brow. A little sweaty. Not too bad, and the kid had a smile on what small amount of his face Damien could see. When he opened the cuffs, Carter’s arms flopped to his side and he grunted. Damien pressed his fingers into the boy’s shoulders and worked the muscles down the arms to loosen them up. Carter only moaned in response.

  Damien left him a moment to go to the mini-fridge in the room and grab a bottle of water. When he returned, he slipped off the blindfold and laid Carter out on the bed.

  “Here you go, boy. You need to drink.” He lifted Carter’s head up and helped him swallow a few good gulps before letting him rest some more.

  There was cream in his bag, so he got it out and applied a liberal amount to the boy’s fiery-red ass. With another moan, Carter humped at the bed. Damien pressed down on the small of his back to keep him still.

  “None of that, boy,” he admonished.

  With his fingers so close to the boy’s puckered hole, it seemed only natural for him to tease it with a cream-slicked fingertip. This was going to be the toughest part of his role, finding it within himself to fuck this boy. Anything less would be strange, and he might as well start with this easy thing. He pushed in slowly up to the first knuckle before sliding it all the way in. Carter shuddered and groaned. He obviously liked it.

  The tightness surprised Damien, as did the heat. It seemed impossible that he’d ever be able to make his cock fit inside, yet he suddenly couldn’t wait for the chance to try. And being a guy himself, Damien obviously knew a thing or two about what men liked. So he crooked the finger and touched a prostate for the first time. Even if he hadn’t known by feel that he’d found it, the way Carter tried to jackknife off the bed confirmed it.