Chapter 10
10
Z eke’s balls were aching, and he was going to be a little grumpy.
He didn’t have to orgasm, but he did want Wesley to quit teasing him. He was sitting at the bar, carefully keeping just enough distance between them.
Or trying to. Wesley kept leaning closer.
To make it worse, there wasn’t a Cape Cod in his hand, just a glass of ice water.
“Nice night, isn’t it, Jamie?”
“Oh, it’s a lovely night, Sir. You look good, Zeke.” Jamie gave him a knowing grin.
“Thanks.” He needed a drink—even if it was just cranberry juice and Sprite. Something tart and yummy.
“So, Jamie.” Wesley sipped his Coke. “We have a room reserved. Do they come get us, or do we show up at a desk somewhere?”
“I have a key card at the bar for you. I’ll just need you to sign it out, please.”
“I can do that.” Wesley took the pen Jamie offered him and signed the bartender’s ledger. “How do you feel, boy? Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m nervous, but I’m ready too.” Because he didn’t know what else to be, if he was honest.
“I’d be worried if you weren’t nervous, but I’ve got this. I’ve got you.” Wesley—Master Wesley—slid off his barstool. “Let’s go, boy.”
“Coming, Sir.” He winked at Jamie, hoping for a little boost of confidence.
Jamie came through, giving him a nod and a thumbs-up. If Wesley noticed, he didn’t let on.
“They really know what they’re doing here,” Wesley said as they made their way through a set of unassuming double doors and down a long hallway. “I didn’t even realize this was back here.”
“I didn’t either.” He’d never been back here, if he was honest.
“Room twelve.” Wesley held the key up to the door and the little light turned green. “Go in.”
“Yes, Sir.” He headed in, hand searching for a light switch automatically.
“Got it.” The lights went on, and Wesley waggled a remote control at him. “Pretty cool. Oh. Great room.”
It was… just a room. A nice one. Soft carpet, a loveseat, a couple of chairs, lamps, pillows, an armoire. A ceiling fan turned slowly well above their heads. There were speakers in the corners. It was cozy.
“It is. It’s lovely.” He peered around, the comfort and ease here relaxing him.
Wesley walked around the room like he was studying it or looking for something. He opened the armoire and nodded slowly, then closed it again and walked to the center of the room, waving him over. “Come to me.”
He headed over, forcing himself to breathe, to stay calm and easy.
Wesley took his hands. “Tell me your words again.”
“Major and minor, Sir.” He held on tight, fingers holding on to Wesley’s.
“You’re fine. You’re safe. I know your words. I’m going to take care of you.” Wesley squeezed back, then let him go, untangling their fingers and heading back to the armoire. “Breathe. Deep breaths. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t trust me. Believe in it.”
Zeke did. He believed in this place. He believed in the lifestyle. Mostly, he believed in Master Wesley.
“See? That’s better.” Master Wesley dropped a thick kneeling pad on the floor in front of him. “You have a choice. You can leave now, or you can kneel for me. If you kneel, you’re mine until we leave this room or you safe-word out.”
That was an easy choice.
If he was going to believe? He was going to commit.
Master Wesley stood in front of him, offering him a hand to steady himself as he went to his knees. “My good boy.” Warm fingers combed through his hair. “Kneel up straight, eyes forward, hands behind your back with the fingers of one hand wrapped around your other wrist. Let me know when you’re settled and comfortable.”
Master went back to the armoire.
He managed to settle, feeling his pulse speed under his fingers. The cushion was comfortable, solid, and he thought he might be able to breathe. “I’m good, Sir.”
“You look good.” Master Wesley closed the armoire, and he got a good look at a flogger with a short handle and very long, thick falls. Master gripped it in one hand, moving slowly and deliberately toward him. “Any health issues? Nothing is too small. If you have heartburn, if you cut yourself shaving, I want to know.”
“I’m healthy as a horse. I haven’t even had a sinus headache in days.”
He got a rap on his ass with what was probably the handle of that flogger. “Your health and safety isn’t a joke, boy.”
Whoa.
Master Wesley’s voice had dropped a whole octave.
“I wasn’t joking, Sir.” Neither was his cock. “I’m in good shape.”
“Good.” Master Wesley stopped in front of him. “Cross your ankles. Don’t lose your balance.”
He tried to tell his body to do it, but his legs wouldn’t move when his brain said to.
Sir stood there, wordless. Not moving. Waiting for him.
“Sir? I can’t figure out how to do it. My leg won’t move.” It wasn’t that he wouldn’t. It just couldn’t.
“Mhm. That’s because you’re using both feet for balance. What I’m asking is almost impossible without help.” Master Wesley held out a hand. “Let go of your wrist, hold my hand, and try again.”
Oh, good. At least there wasn’t anything wrong with his legs. He let go of his wrist and grabbed Wesley’s hand. “Thank you. I’m sorry, Sir.”
Then he crossed his ankles.
“Hm. What are you sorry for?” Wesley chuckled and let go of his hand. “I know. It’s not you. It’s a test, and it’s confusing on purpose. How you respond helps me understand how you handle orders.”
“Did I pass? The test, I mean?” He didn’t like being a failure.
“Yep.” Sir’s fingers were gentle where they touched his cheek. “You can’t fail it. I won’t ever set you up to fail.”
Oh, that was a lovely thing to hear. He did his best, but sometimes, that wasn’t enough. Lord knew ‘his best’ wasn’t consistent. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Try putting your hands behind your back again and let me know if you can hold that. It will be a little bit of work.”
He managed it, the pose stretching his abs and making him sweat a little.
“Good boy.” Master tapped him between the shoulders with the falls of the flogger. They were heavy but didn’t hurt at all. They did threaten his balance though.
He’d do his best, until he just couldn’t hold the pose. Maybe he needed to start doing yoga.
“Are you comfortable, boy?”
“No, Sir. I’m not in distress, either. It is a challenge.”
“Okay. And what are you thinking about right now?”
“Staying upright, like you asked.”
“Why?”
“Why did you ask, Sir? Or why am I trying to stay upright?”
“Why are you trying to stay upright? Do you know? Is it serving me? Are you finding your headspace?”
So many fucking questions. “Because you asked it of me, Sir.”
That was serving, right?
“Okay. Thank you. Good boy.” Master Wesley rested a hand on his shoulder. “You can get comfortable again. Ask for help if you need it.”
“This is okay?” He let his arms go, took a deep breath.
“That’s fine. And you can uncross your ankles too if you like. Just be comfortable.” Wesley squeezed his shoulder and then let it go. “So, here is what I’ve learned. You like to follow rules, and you will do whatever I ask even if you have no idea why. You take pride in that, and so you’re very concerned about failing or disappointing me. You don’t think to ask for help, maybe because it wasn’t permitted in your past. It is now.” Master Wesley paced around him slowly. “You trust me, and that is a gift that I will look after carefully.”
Wesley stopped in front of him again. “I’m telling you all of this because I want to be sure you understand that I care about you, and that I take responsibility for what happens between us. Hopefully, it will all be wonderful, you’ll get what you need, and I will be a smug Dom. But since easy and perfect isn’t the goal, I’m here for you.”
Zeke was fairly sure that his former Dom had never said so many words to him in their entire relationship. This was like a breath of fresh air. “Thank you for telling me, Sir. It’s tough to let go of the urge to be perfect for you.”
“Well, I didn’t say you shouldn’t try .” Master Wesley laughed. “Okay, I’m talking too much, take your top off, please.”
He chuckled as well, pulling his heavy sweater off, folding it, and setting it aside.
“This guy is way more likely to knock you over if I use it fully than to hurt at all. I won’t be using it that way.” The falls of the heavy flogger landed on his bare skin with a thud. “I want you to think about weight. About the solid floor where you’re kneeling. The heaviness in your hips. The weight of your arms on your shoulders.” Another thud landed without warning, but Master was right, it only felt heavy.
He closed his eyes, focusing on how he was connected to the floor, listening to the rhythm of Master Wesley’s breathing.
“Oh, good boy.” The words were warm and floated over him. “A few good breaths, please. In and out.”
He took a deep inhale, and he let it go, allowing himself to empty his lungs. Then he did it again.
“Excellent. Now,” Master Wesley’s voice came from behind him, low and close to his ear. “Tell me what you need most.”
A thousand things zipped through his head, but what came out of his mouth was, “Freedom.”
“Mm.” Master Wesley stayed close and quiet for a long moment, fingers touching his shoulder. “Thank you,” Master said finally, and he could hear those feet move away in the direction of the armoire.
“Stand up and move around, please. What I have in mind might take a while and I don’t want you kneeling the whole time.”
“Can I have a hand, Sir?” Yoga. He definitely needed to practice yoga.
“Yes.” Master Wesley came right to him and offered a hand up.
He took it and stood, stretching up tall, spine cracking.
“Move around, stretch, then find yourself a comfortable spot to stand with your palms against the wall. No rush.” Sir went right back to the armoire and put that heavy flogger away.
He felt a little high—not flying, but the promise was there, the urge.
Master Wesley stood at the armoire for a bit, then came back holding something in his hand that was small enough he couldn’t get a good look at it. “Feeling ready?”
“I am.” Whether that meant he was? Now that was a different story.
“Okay. Hands against the wall, please.” Master Wesley helped him—well, sort of helped him get settled, tapping his ankles until they were spread apart and testing his balance by pressing on his hips. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.” He leaned back into Master Wesley’s hands.
And just like that, they disappeared. “Good.” Sir slid something light across his shoulders, one way, then back, then back again. He was pretty sure it was a feather. It went back and forth and back and forth, and Master Wesley was silent behind him. He heard nothing but steady breathing.
His skin began to tingle, the sensation a mixture of maddening and delicious. He sucked in a deep breath, held it a second, and let it go.
“It’s a feather. It’s interesting how sensitive it can make your skin. This is just a flick of my finger.” Sir’s finger tapped against his shoulder, and it burned, or maybe stung, it was hard to tell with all those nerves firing.
He gasped, his eyes going wide. “I?—”
That didn’t make any sense to his brain.
“Mhm.” The feather was back working over the same area again. “Just a feather.”
“Doesn’t make sense…” None at all. His body insisted he was burning up.
“It doesn’t have to. Stop thinking so hard and just feel, boy. Just feel it.”
“Sorry. Sorry, Sir.” Stop thinking? Hell, he was flying.
Master Wesley chuckled. “Good boy. Sweet boy. Beautiful boy.” The words of praise were spread out between strokes of that feather.
It was as if Master Wesley was underlining the moments of praise, making each one more intense.
“Good boys get rewarded.” Sir stepped in close to him, trapping the heat of his sensitive shoulders between them and whispered, “What do you want?”
“You, Sir. Please.” He had no idea beyond that. None.
Master Wesley laughed softly, one hand closing over the bulge in his jeans he hadn’t been able to shake all day. “You’re going to have that, when I’m ready.” That heat disappeared as Sir went to the armoire again. “Are you not used to earning rewards?”
“God no, Sir.” He only fucked up. That was all he did.
Master sighed. “I’m sorry you haven’t been treated well in the past. You haven’t been cared for properly. You’re a good sub—thoughtful, obedient—and you deserve better. Fully undress for me, please.”
“Yes, Sir.” He stripped down. He knew he looked good, and he took care of himself.
“See? Obedient. Good boy.” Master moved back toward him with what looked like a paddle in one hand and that feather in the other. The feather was bright purple, which he hadn’t expected. The paddle was covered in black leather.
He had to wonder which end of the feather Master Wesley had been touching him with. “It’s a pretty color.”
“Bright, huh?” Master Wesley ran the feather over his bare ass. “The paddle is less colorful, but just as fun. Hands on the wall again. Be comfortable, but I want that butt where I can get at it.”
“Yes, Sir.” He leaned and settled against the wall, tensing his glutes and relaxing them.
“Pretty.” Sir’s hand slid over his ass and then around his hip to settle under his balls. “Heavy. You’ve been a good boy today, waiting for me.”
He nodded. This was one of his superpowers, controlling himself, giving a Dom this.
“So, let’s talk rewards.” That hand slid over his balls and all the way down his prick to the tip, which Master Wesley pinched quickly before pulling away. “I’m going to get you out of your head, make you float right off the ground.”
Master rubbed the paddle in a slow circle across his ass.
“Uh-huh.” His toes curled, and he inhaled deep. “Yes, Sir.”
“I know your words and I expect you will use them if you need to. Clear?” He got two light raps with the paddle, one on each cheek.
“Yes, Sir. I understand. I promise.”
“Breathe.” The paddle fell hard, twice. He did as he was told and took a breath, but barely had time to exhale before Master landed two more.
The blows stung so sweet, making his toes curl as he tried to suck in air.
Master backed off to lighter taps, but relentless ones—the paddle landing over and over, one side and then the other. “You pink up nice, boy. Your skin loves a paddle.”
He nodded, because he couldn’t find breath to speak. His butt was on fire.
The blows slowed and stopped, and Master set the paddle down on the floor. “Remember the feather?” Master waved it next to him, just barely in sight of his peripheral vision.
“Y-yes, Sir. I remember.” He absolutely did.
“It’s just a feather, boy.” But it didn’t feel like one as Master brushed it over one burning ass cheek.
He went up on tiptoe, gasping as lightning shot up his spine.
“Ooh. You like that? I’m not hearing any words.” Master sounded pleased, and amused.
“I don’t know!” Like was a tiny word. “It’s so big, Sir.”
“Well, let’s try the other cheek.” Sir did it again on the other side.
He was expecting it, so it wasn’t so intense, but it was still wild.
Sir moved behind him and rested warm palms on his shoulders, which were still pretty sensitive. “So much to feel.”
“Yes, Sir. So much to learn.” And they had no time.
“Shh.” Sir stepped back and spanked him solidly. “Feel. Stay in the moment. Right now, you’re just learning this. Learning to feel. Learning it’s okay to feel good. You deserve to feel good. Be in this moment with me.”
He nodded and sniffled, so close to tears. “Yes, Sir.”
He would stay right here, with Master Wesley.
“Good boy.” Master touched him again, talking softly, fingers sliding over his ass, making the hot skin tingle. “You can let it go. I’m here. Whatever you’re feeling, just be honest. You’re safe. It’s just us.”
He got another solid spanking. “Feel, boy.”
“I am.” He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, exactly, but he was feeling, for sure.
Master spanked him again, hand landing hard but smoothing the skin after with his hand. “Repeat this: I deserve to feel good.”
“I—” God, this was hard. So stupid. He was being stupid. “I deserve to feel good.”
“Mhm. Now repeat, I deserve to be happy.” Sir picked up the paddle and used it twice, the sound loud enough to startle him more than the sting.
“I deserve—” He jerked forward, the words just leaving his brain like smoke.
Master Wesley caught him with an arm around his waist. “To be happy… I deserve to be happy. Say it.”
“I deserve to be happy.” But he hadn’t been. He’d been… surviving.
“You’re important, Zeke. You matter. You’re not invisible, and you’re not better off on the fringes. You’re a good sub and a good man, and you deserve good things.” Master spread his fingers over his belly and pulled him close. “Tell me you’re important. Tell me you matter.”
“I want to matter to someone. I want to be someone’s person.” He wanted to be happy and feel safe.
“Zeke.” Sir was very still, breathing across his shoulders. “You have to matter to yourself first.”
“I do. That’s why—” That was why he was here. Why he’d protected himself, held himself close and away.
“Don’t do that. Finish the thought, boy.”
“You don’t understand, Sir. I’m here because I matter. I protected myself. I escaped and ran. I did it for me.”
“Mm.” Sir set the paddle down again. “You matter to me, Zeke. You feel like my sub—my person—more than anyone ever has.”
“You feel like mine, too. I’ve never felt like this before, Sir.”
“This will have to be a longer discussion. Later. In bed.” Sir’s fingers wrapped around his prick and squeezed. “After your reward.”
“Oh…” His eyes rolled back in his head, his body tensing at the firm touch.
“My boy.” Master leaned against him, and he could feel the bulge against his ass. Sir’s hand moved steadily along his length. “I’m going to have you right here.”
“Yes, Sir. Please.” Knowing Sir wanted him made him throb, made him soar.
“Your ass looks beautifully red and fuckable, boy.” Master moved away and didn’t make a secret of digging for lube and protection. Master sighed as he rolled on the condom in plain view where he could see.
He licked his lips, his cock so hard it throbbed like his tender ass.
The lube followed, Sir’s fingers sliding over his hole. They moved back and forth and circled his ass, teasing him.
“Oh.” Oh, that was sweet and so right. He arched, his ass tilted into the touch.
“Oh,” Sir repeated, drawing the sound out. One finger breached him, slipping inside him with slow confidence. “Yes.”
He clenched around the touch, and his lips parted.
“Relax, boy. You’ll have me in a second. And because you’ve been such a good boy, you can shoot any time you want.”
He liked this system of rewards. He liked it a lot, to be honest. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
Sir curled his finger just so and dragged over his gland, making his eyes cross. A moment later, that finger was gone and the head of that thick cock pressed against him. “I want you.”
“I’m yours. I need you, Sir. Yes.”
“Mine.” Sir pushed in so slowly, stretching him, making him burn. “Fuck, yes.”
His lips parted on a low, long cry. “Yes!”
Sir slowly sank in deep, and a low moan washed over him. Sir shifted hot hands to his hips and held on, clutching himvas they just stayed there, joined and motionless.
He felt Sir everywhere—stretching him, filling him, making him shudder.
“My boy,” Sir growled, rocking them a little. The big cock jerked inside him.
“Y-yours! Yours.” His eyes rolled back in his eye, lightning flooding him.
Finally, Sir groaned, rocked and thrust back in deep again, moving in steady, strong strokes.
He was soaring, his balls drawing up tight, soft cries filling the air.
“Zeke…” Master breathed his name in his ear, hips driving against him. “My good boy.”
“Oh God.” He gulped in air. “Master…”
His good boy.
The words echoed inside his head as he shot.