Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Yes. Very much so. If…
“You know how to do this?” DJ asked.
“Not as good as Logan, but enough to give you the sense of it. If you’d like to see how it feels.”
Logan had returned to Madison. He took a sip of the water she had for him, and kissed her, his other hand rising to caress her chin, then tug on the collar in a manner that had her seeming a little lost. DJ thought she might have forgotten they were there until Logan straightened and his gaze moved over DJ to Roy.
“Good to have you here.”
“Thanks. Good to be here.” Roy shook his hand. “Anyone have this station after you? I’d like to borrow your six-footer to give DJ a taste, but I don’t want to jump the line.”
“I’m doing demos here until midnight, but the next one isn’t for twenty minutes. I can sit here and enjoy my wife. Have you kept in practice?”
“Yep. But feel free to correct and improve my technique. I’m not too proud to take lessons from Army.”
Logan chuckled. “I thought humility was against the Marines ROE.”
“I didn’t say a thing about humility. Rules of engagement,” Roy added at DJ’s curious look. “Ready to give it a go?”
“Yeah. Yes, Sir,” DJ added at Roy’s sudden still look. “Where do you…what do you want me to do?”
Roy gripped his hand and held that connection, his fingers warm. DJ understood how Madison could get lost in a simple closed mouth kiss and touch on her collar, when having his hand held by Roy did the same.
“Remember your safe word,” his Master said. “If something bugs you, use it.”
He wanted DJ’s shirt off, but this time he handled it himself, rather than issuing a command. He caressed DJ’s abdomen when he slipped the fleur-de-lis button, molding his palms to his shoulders as he pushed the shirt off of them. He turned toward Madison. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all.” She took it and folded it over her lap. With a teasing twinkle in her eye, she leaned over to DJ and whispered, “I promise not to run off and sell it on eBay.”
As Logan leaned against the wall next to her, his hand on her shoulder, thumb playing under her bra strap, Roy picked two lengths of rope off of the table where he’d laid out his whips and other needed items. Roy then directed DJ to the X frame, but accompanied him there, not making him walk by himself.
“Face the wall and grip the handles on the top pieces.” When DJ complied, Roy’s anticipation was evident in the tense set of the lips he brought close to DJ’s.
As he rested a hand on the small of DJ’s back, he murmured words meant only for him.
His gray eyes were suddenly luminescent, his heat and energy grabbing DJ’s full attention.
It told DJ what had been banked inside his Master, waiting to consume DJ in this moment.
“The world wants to hear what comes out of your mouth. I want to hear your cries inside my mouth, while I taste you with my tongue and teeth. I want to hear a song that’s only for me, when my cock is buried inside you.”
The man was throwing out verse ideas like candy for a kid, but he wouldn’t let DJ write them down. He wrapped the first rope around DJ’s wrist, and threaded it between two of his fingers, making an X on the top of his hand, before he secured it to the metal handle.
“You like the feeling of restraint,” his Master said.
“Yes, Sir.”
Roy moved to the other side, bound that one, then he stepped between DJ’s braced feet and nudged the back of his knee with his own.
His thigh brushed DJ’s, his hip bone against his taut ass.
“Shoulder width always, Dory. Unless I want them out wider. Until I tell you otherwise, I expect you to respond ‘Yes, Sir’ to anything I say to you.” He leaned in.
“I should be able to hear the capital S in your voice.”
Tingles shot down his spine and into his testicles, a feeling DJ instantly wanted more of.
“Yes, Sir.”
People were watching. He was used to crowds watching him sing. Not for this. Not for seeing him stripped and responding to the touch of a Master.
“Dory.” Roy’s hand was on his raised shoulder. “All right?”
He nodded, then remembered. “Yes, Sir. Just…nerves. Not bad ones, I don’t think.” His mask and changed appearance, the anonymity of it, was a buffer between him and those watching. It could turn this into a private song, just for the two of them.
“I don’t think so, either. This is going to sting some, but the point is sensation, not pain.”
“Will it leave marks?”
“Some redness. It’ll go away pretty quick.” He caressed DJ’s nape. “Do you want my marks on you?”
“I think so.” Always. He still thought about that first mark left on his buttock by Roy’s bruising pinch.
“I’d like to one day give you a massage like your masseur does, rubbing balm into the marks I’ve left on you.”
His voice was going to transform DJ into heated flame himself, setting him and the X frame on fire.
I become a pillar of fire for you
Let me hand you the lighter…match…torch…
Roy leaned against his body, solid erection against his ass. He put his hand in DJ’s pocket, stroking his testicles through denim before he pulled out the notebook, braced it against DJ’s bare back and clicked the pen.
“Tell me.”
God, DJ fucking loved him.
The surety of the revelation transcended every worry about time, reality and death, but because of its intensity, it still managed to pour salt into the wound of recent loss.
His trembling increased. Roy slid his free arm around his chest, keeping the notebook against him with the pen. “Tell me, Dory,” he commanded.
DJ obeyed. At Roy’s significant pause, DJ wished he could see his reaction, but Roy didn’t give him that. Everything was Roy’s choice to give. DJ tried to stay still as Roy wrote, even though he really wanted to rub his ass against that other pillar, the steel one against his buttocks.
When he pushed pen and notebook back into DJ’s pocket, Roy gave his buttock a firm squeeze and moved into DJ’s peripheral vision, allowing him to see Roy pick up the six foot single tail. He pulled the tapered thong through his half-curled hand.
He did some test throws with the whip, swinging toward the wall to DJ’s left. DJ watched the way he set his feet, the graceful movement of his body. Logan made some kind of suggestion, a rumble of male voices that didn’t penetrate DJ’s absorption.
Roy changed the foot positioning and Logan nodded. It did something devastating to DJ, watching Roy take direction from another Dom. He would never be so proud that he wouldn’t accept help to care for his sub.
Roy came back to DJ. He stroked the doubled over whip along DJ’s shoulders, his back, his buttocks.
The fall and cracker teased and tickled.
“A single tail is versatile when you know what you’re doing.
You’ll keep your face toward the wall. Remember what I said about the woman in the face mask?
I shouldn’t be hitting hard enough for you to lose control of your reactions, but don’t turn your face toward your shoulder to see me. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Since it’s difficult to hear a safeword while doing this, if you need a break, raise three fingers on your left hand. That’ll be hard for me to miss.”
“Boy Scout salute?”
“Only if you fold your thumb and small finger across your palm. Were you a Boy Scout?”
“No, but I’m betting you were. What does it mean?”
Roy lifted his hand, making the salute, and touched each finger in turn. “Honor. Help. Obey.”
He stepped back. DJ flexed his hands under the hold of the crisscrossed ropes.
Possible costume accessories for the music video taking shape in his head flitted through.
Maybe a modified glove created out of ropes, wrapped just like this.
Possibly with beaded fringe that brushed the dancers’ forearms, as the fringe of his mask did against his cheeks.
Every piece of the performance should reflect the journey he’d taken with Roy, just as the words of the song would.
It would be something to remember when Roy was no longer part of his life.
Fuck that.
The whip fell against his shoulder and tumbled down his back. Roy had whisked it against him, letting DJ get familiar with the contact, and taking his head away from those unwelcome thoughts. He did it a few times, and though it was easy, almost caressing, DJ’s muscles tightened, anticipating.
The first pinpoint strike, the sound of the pop, jolted him, bringing heat and a faint sting.
It made him crave more.
Roy moved over different parts of DJ’s back like George had done with Jenna, then down to his buttocks, still covered by his jeans.
The tiny stings against his flesh started to throb, that ledge where pain and pleasure seesawed.
No, not a seesaw. Two male dancers doing an intense, warlike tango on a cliff edge, coming so close to it.
Would they dance off of it and tumble? Or continue to dance, because the spinning intensity was like helicopter blades, keeping them aloft?
His cock was throbbing and his hips wanted to move, like when Roy was thrusting into him. Pillows under DJ’s hips, the rasp of his chest hair against DJ’s back as he pressed down on him. This was another form of weight, a reminder of ownership.
The next round of stings was sharper. DJ arched with a slight gasp, rising on his toes.
The fingers of his left hand started to rise up, but slowly, he put them down as the feeling soaked in.
He could take another strike or two like that.
He imagined Roy’s approval, and it fueled the desire. The determination.
When the next one landed, DJ absorbed it, his head dropping forward, breath shallow.
He’d seen people fucking here, right in front of everyone.
Maybe that was part of how they got off, or maybe when they reached a point like he felt now, all that mattered was that their Dom wanted to have them, then and there.
Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.