Chapter Twelve
Garett
Garett stepped into Cowpokes, the familiar scent of leather, whiskey, and sweat wrapping around him like a second skin. The throb of bass-heavy music pulsed through the dimly lit room, and within seconds, Cherry stood right in front of him, eyes wide with excitement.
“Where’s Torin?” Cherry asked, nearly breathless, his perfectly manicured pink and black nails tapping against Garett’s chest playfully.
Garett smirked, shaking his head. “Visiting a friend tonight.”
Cherry pouted dramatically. “Damn. Well, then—” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a sultry whisper. “How about a scene with me?”
Garett exhaled, tempted, as he always was with Cherry since he was fun to play with. The young man knew how to take pain beautifully. But Garett had made his choice. He promised himself he would maintain a simple life structured around Torin’s needs. For a year, he was responsible for him, and Dante’s assignment came first. When he had agreed to take Torin on, he hadn’t thought about how much his lifestyle would be hampered.
“I’m working,” he said, brushing a knuckle under Cherry’s chin before stepping past him.
“I was thinking after hours like we used to, Sir.” Cherry followed him.
“It won’t be possible since I’m with Torin.”
“Is Torin really your sub, Sir?”
“Did you see his collar?”
“Yes, Sir. But why didn’t you collar him here, Sir?”
“I’m here to work. I’ll talk to you later. Stay safe.”
Before he could get too far away from Cherry, the bar’s manager, Jace, flagged him down. “Garett, I need a favor.”
Garett arched his brow. “What’s up?”
“Master Belle’s running late. Can you cover for him for an hour?”
Garett glanced toward the stage. A well-worn spanking bench sat, and a table of spanking implements were beneath the warm glow of the overhead lights. A line of eager subs—some giddy with anticipation, others shifting nervously—waited for their turn. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his stance. It had been a while since he’d done something like this publicly, but he wasn’t one to turn down a favor for Jace. They had a great working relationship. Garett filled in for Jace on the weekends and other times when he needed extra help.
“Yeah, I got it,” Garett said.
With that, Garett made his way to the stage, his presence commanding immediate attention as he always had in the past. He took a seat on the high-backed chair Master Belle usually occupied, rolling up the sleeves of his black button-down. Cherry approached first—with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Garett wondered how much he paid to get in front of the line. At the club, everyone loved Cherry, but no Dom wanted him. Many played with him, but he never seemed to catch anyone’s full attention after a scene. He always went home alone. Garett knew the boy aspired to be his sub, but he didn’t have the deep feelings he should have. He would not feel comfortable taking him on. Somehow, Cherry was receiving mixed messages from him.
“How many swats and with what?” Garett asked.
“Tens swats with the leather paddle with holes, Sir.”
“What is your safeword?” Garett knew what it was, but he had to ask, regardless. When did he feel like he was doing something wrong with Cherry? He was doing his job, nothing more.
“Shallot, Sir.” The excitement on Cherry’s face made Garett feel what he was going to do would send more mixed messages. He had no intention of collaring the boy.
“Bend over the bench.”
“Yes, Master Garett.”
Cherry pulled his jeans and underwear down before he moved to be face down on the bench. The other subs standing in line clapped and whistled at Cherry. The boy loved showing off his naked body. Garett tied his hands and feet to the bench. He picked up the paddle he had requested.
Garett’s paddle struck Cherry’s ass with enough intensity to make him squeal. There was no hesitation. The paddle pounced off Cherry’s ass, leather against skin. By that second blow, Cherry’s tears rolled down his face. By the third and fourth, Cherry yelped like a puppy each time Garett struck his ass. Garett enjoyed paddling Cherry; the painful strikes continued until he hit ten. Cherry gritted his teeth as the spanking continued. Cherry’s eyes sealed shut, but his tears streaming down his face.
“Great job, Cherry, as always. How do you feel?” Garett untied him from the spanking bench. He took him in his arms.
“I’m good, Sir.”
There was an ice chest with cold bottled water. He pulled one out for Cherry. Another Dom took Cherry to the back room to make sure he was okay.
The next boy walked to the stage and seemed nervous.
“How many swats and with what?”
“Five swats with your hand over your knee, Sir.”
“What’s your safeword?”
“Red, Sir.” He was shifting, showing how nervous he was.
“Have you ever done this before?”
“No, Sir.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What’s your question?”
“Can I keep my jeans on, Sir?”
“Yes. Any other questions?”
“No, Sir.”
Garett pointed to his lap, and the boy placed himself over Garett’s lap without hesitation, presenting himself beautifully.
Garett trailed a hand over the curve of the man’s ass before delivering the first sharp slap. The sound cracked through the air, followed by a soft, pleased moan. He settled into a steady rhythm, alternating between open-palmed swats and the occasional squeeze, gauging the submissive’s reactions with practiced ease.
Each boy in line got their turn, and Garett gave them exactly what they sought—some needed firm correction, others wanted teasing strokes of sensation. He adjusted effortlessly, ensuring each encounter was personal, intentional. He worked through the line efficiently, his strikes measured but never lacking intensity. Some subs left with their skin marked in blooming shades of red, others with nothing more than a lingering tingle.
By the time the hour was up, Garett leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. Master Belle arrived just as the last sub was stepping away, their body still trembling from the final slap. The older Dom clapped Garett on the shoulder with a chuckle.
“Damn, looks like you handled things just fine.”
Garett smirked, stretching his fingers. “They were a good bunch.”
Master Belle took his seat, adjusting his cuffs. “Anytime you want to do it again, just let me know.”
Garett gave a noncommittal shrug, stepping down from the stage. His body hummed with lingering adrenaline, but his mind was already elsewhere—Torin. As much as he enjoyed moments like these, he had made his choice. Why did he feel like he was cheating on Torin? They weren’t a couple. Yet, he felt ashamed in some sort of way. When he was finished for the evening, he said his goodbyes and left.
Garett pulled up in front of Colton’s home, shutting off the engine as he spotted Torin waiting near the porch. The younger man walked toward the car with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his expression unreadable. Garett said little as Torin slid into the passenger seat. He simply nodded in greeting before pulling away from the house, the silence between them thick but not entirely uncomfortable.
When they arrived home, Garett led the way into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over a chair. He glanced at Torin, who hovered by the counter as if unsure what to do with himself.
“Get us some decaf,” Garett instructed, taking a seat at the table. “Then sit.”
Torin moved wordlessly, setting about making the coffee. The soft gurgling of the machine filled the silence, and a few minutes later, he placed a steaming mug in front of Garett before sitting across from him.
For a moment, neither spoke, the air between them heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then Torin broke the silence.
“Did you take any boys into the private rooms tonight?” His tone was casual, but his fingers tapped restlessly against the side of his mug.
Garett exhaled, shaking his head. “No.” He lifted his coffee and took a sip before adding, “But I had to cover another Dom’s job.”
Torin’s brows furrowed. “What job?”
“I had the unattached subs in the line like Master Belle,” Garett said simply.
Torin tensed. “Did you see Cherry in the line?”
Garett met his gaze, holding it steady. “Yeah, he was there.”
Torin’s fingers curled around his mug, his jaw tightening. “Did you spank him?”
There was no sense in lying. “I did.”
Torin’s expression darkened, anger and something else—jealousy, maybe—flashing in his eyes. Garett felt a twinge of guilt but didn’t quite understand why. He and Torin weren’t in a relationship. He had no reason to feel guilty. And yet, the way Torin looked at him now made him question it.
“What is Cherry’s real name?”
“Jesse Cherry Calloway.”
“How did he get the name Cherry?”
“Well, he used to tell all the Doms he was a virgin, and they could pop his cherry, so the Doms got together and began calling him Cherry. It stopped his lies about being a virgin.”
The silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Garett leaned back in his chair, studying Torin’s rigid posture. Maybe he should do something about this, whatever this was between them. Maybe he should take him out, just the two of them.
“Have you ever been dirt biking?” he asked suddenly.
Torin blinked, caught off guard by the change in topic. “A few times.”
Garett smirked. “Wanna go?”
Torin hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
“Good,” Garett said, taking another sip of coffee. “We’ll go one day this week.”