Chapter Six #2
The kink scene had always been a source of fascination, and I’d encountered enough men who wanted to play casually at power dynamics, but I’d never really taken it seriously.
Definitely not as seriously as the Braided Crop Ranch did.
I’d done some bottoming in my twinky twenties, but even when I had, I’d preferred being in control of everything.
Once I’d gotten braver and more able to state my preferences to the men who seduced me, or whom I seduced, I’d discovered the joys of topping.
I considered myself a switch, but I liked to be in control.
So as I watched Kamal step back and give Puck a hearty slap to the backside, which propelled the ponyboy into a jerky trot, I felt an equal desire to fuck, and to be fucked, by this beautiful creature.
I didn’t care one way or the other. I’d take what he had to offer.
Now that I was here, at the Braided Crop Ranch, in this heady environment where domination and submission was the entire point, I couldn’t help a gut-wrenching need to explore the dynamic in ways I never had before.
Over the next thirty minutes, I watched Kamal put Puck through his paces, and took a slew of photos of them working together.
Puck seemed determined to perform to Kamal’s satisfaction, and though there were occasional glimpses of the contrary attitude I’d witnessed previously, he tamped it down and gave it his all.
Kamal was clearly pleased with him, and when they finished an extensive lesson on form and comportment, the trainer brought Puck closer to where I stood, presumably so I could get some closer shots and hear the praise he doled out.
“Very good, Puck. You’ve done incredibly well, and I’m happy to reward you for your hard work.”
My gaze flew to find Puck’s. We locked onto each other as Kamal’s fingers deftly unlatched the cage around the ponyboy’s swollen tackle.
This felt different than watching Lorraine and Teagan. Because Puck was my obsession, and so far, I’d only seen him prance around in his pony gear and piss into the grass.
Now, as Kamal freed his cock, Puck kept his gaze on me and lifted his chin as if to say, “Yeah, you want me? Can’t have me right now, but you can watch me get jerked off into the dirt.”
Fuck.
My shorts tightened as Kamal pulled a nytril glove from the pocket of his jeans and pulled it on, then added lube from a pump bottle near the fence. As he rubbed the slick substance on his fingers, he glanced at me and grinned.
I started to feel lightheaded and wondered if I should leave. Was I ready for this?
“Aren’t you going to take some photos, Oliver? I thought that’s what you came for.”
Ah, fuck.
I was standing there beside my expensive photographic gear, staring wide-eyed at Puck, completely oblivious to the purpose at hand.
“Oh. Yes. Of course. Yes. Sorry.”
I cleared my throat and fumbled in my bag for my handheld, feeling like I should move closer but terrified Kamal would notice how this was affecting me. Maybe that ship had sailed.
By the time I’d got sorted out and approached them, Kamal had moved in behind Puck and slung a powerful arm across the ponyboy’s chest, keeping him steady, as he lazily jerked his cock with his gloved hand.
Puck’s head lay on Kamal’s shoulder, his eyes shut and his lips slightly parted, as if he’d completely given up fighting the man and decided to willingly surrender to his dominance.
At least for today.
“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath as I raised my camera to get the shots I needed–close-ups of Kamal’s thick bicep against Puck’s heaving chest, the ponyboy’s bare legs framed by Kamal’s clothed ones, and Puck’s bare ass pressed against Kamal’s clothed groin.
The juxtaposition of their bodies was beautiful and almost poetic.
The noises that came from Puck’s throat sent tremors through me as my dick ached and heart pounded. And Kamal’s hushed commentary was just as arousing.
“Good boy. That’s it. Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good.”
Puck whimpered as I took photo bursts of Kamal’s skilled hand job.
When he groaned with sudden volume, I made the mistake of glancing up to find his dark gaze on me, as Kamal kept his movements slow and steady.
The trainer wasn’t making this quick but extending the ponyboy’s pleasure at the same time as he made him wait for release.
My mouth dry, I held Puck’s gaze for several moments, then turned back to the viewer. I wanted to capture the moment of release when it happened. The money shot, so to speak.
My heart beat fast and sweat gathered on my neck, but it was too late to take off the plaid shirt. I swallowed thickly as I crouched on one knee with my camera aimed at the action.
Puck began to squirm as he got closer to his orgasm, trying to push his cock into Kamal’s tight fist at the rhythm he craved.
But Kamal held him still and continued his slow, steady tease.
Puck whimpered and gasped, his struggles becoming more desperate.
Kamal’s arm strained to keep him still and the older man’s lips pressed together with determination as he murmured soft reassurances into Puck’s ear.
Finally, when I thought the poor kid would scream from frustration, Puck stiffened and a stuttering wail erupted from his throat, as semen gushed over Kamal’s moving hand.
“Good boy. That’s a good boy, so very good, Puck.”
If I’d been closer to Puck’s age, I probably would have creamed my jeans at the sight of this.
Instead, I used the monumental will I’d gained from so many years of practice and locked my desire down, continuing to take photos as Puck sagged against his trainer and shuddered through the remnants of his orgasm.
But my breathing laboured, and my heart beat with abandon.
Kamal held him until Puck regained his energy and stood stiffly, cheeks flaming with embarrassment as he tried to avoid my gaze.
Kamal peeled off his soiled glove.
“Oliver, I’m going inside for a second. Can you keep an eye on him? I’m sure he won’t be any trouble,” Kamal said.
“Uh, sure. I’ll stay right here,” I said, watching Kamal walk past and out the gate.
Acting on sudden impulse, I lifted the camera and took a burst of shots of Kamal from behind as he strode toward the arena with the messy glove clutched in one hand.
As I lowered my camera, I watched Kamal for a few more seconds before turning to meet Puck’s challenging gaze. He stood there, spent and satisfied, with a scowl on his face and lines of concern marring the skin of his forehead. He was still the most beautiful thing on two legs.
I shrugged and smiled. “He’s hot.”
But nothing compared to you.
Puck’s eyes narrowed and he snorted, sounding like a real pony.
“If you like bossy assholes who use their power against you,” he muttered.
His comment sounded ridiculous in the circumstances, and I couldn’t help laughing.
“What did you think you were gonna get at a pony play ranch? Some pushover?”
He nodded, cheeks darkening. “Fine. Yeah, sure. Laugh at me. I know you think I’m ridiculous.”
That sobered me.
“Puck. What?”
He squirmed, like he wanted to leave but knew he had to wait here for Kamal, and if he didn’t, he’d be in some major trouble that he probably didn’t want to think about.
“I mean, what kind of guy would want to do this, right?” he said, gazing at the paddock around him as if it were full of refuse.
“You’re seriously asking me that?”
He glared at me.
I continued. “I think there are a lot of men who would want to be standing in your shoes.” My gaze drifted along his body to his scuffed Docs. “Boots,” I corrected. I gestured around us at the ranch. “Clearly.”
He didn’t say anything, but his gaze very deliberately roamed over my body and back to my eyes. “Would you?”
I felt my cheeks heat. Would I?
I didn’t know what to say, so I took off my baseball cap and slapped it against my thigh. The sound made Puck jump. Which was more telling than anything I’d seen so far.
He covered his startle with a sneer, though, and repeated his question.
“Would you?”
“Sure.”
“Yeah, right.”
I stared at him, wondering how long Kamal was going to be. I felt abandoned and put on the spot. But maybe I should take advantage of the privacy we had.
“I’d be open to trying it,” I said.
“Awesome. Next time I see Adam, I’ll let him know that our expert photographer wants to try life as a ponyboy.”
“I’d rather be a trainer,” I said, glancing to see if Kamal was making his way back yet. There was no sign of him, so I turned back to Puck.
He watched me, his eyes bright with interest. I moved carefully, cautiously, closer, as if he were a wild horse and not a human ponyboy on his way to being domesticated.
He held my gaze as I neared. I stopped in front of him.
“Your trainer,” I said, raising my hand. I held it in the air near his face, waiting for a sneer or a curse or even a wad of angry spit.
He glanced at it, then returned his gaze to mine as I lowered it so my fingers landed on his hair. I stroked my fingers over his dark locks as he closed his eyes and sighed, like the weight of a thousand burdens had been removed.
“I think you’re beautiful,” I said, savouring his perfect bone structure and pale skin spattered with beauty marks.
He said nothing as he stood beneath my touch. He kept his eyes closed, but his chest rose and fell with quickening breaths.
I leaned in and placed a soft, chaste kiss beside his nose. He turned his face enough to press his cheek against my lips and expose his neck, as if asking for more, when a throat cleared nearby.
We jerked apart.
I stepped back and gazed apologetically at Kamal. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Kamal’s expression was one of pleased surprise. He only shook his head.
“It’s quite all right. I told you to watch him. I just didn’t think you’d watch him quite that closely.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I couldn’t help it.”
Kamal grinned and gestured to Puck who stared at the ground and scowled.
“I completely understand. For such a contrary ponyboy, he’s incredibly appealing.”
Puck snorted and scuffed at the dirt with his boot.
“Good luck,” Kamal said, then laughed and raised his eyebrows, shaking his head at me.
“Thanks,” I muttered, retreating to pack my gear.
I was officially done for the day. I needed to get some space, reassemble my thoughts and emotions, and decide what the hell I was going to do now.