He was every gay submissive boy’s wet dream. His dominance filled the air around him, calling to the submissive in me in a way that should have frightened me, but didn’t. I wanted to be on my knees at
his
feet right that very second. Not in the cage waiting. He’d won me even if he hadn’t bid yet.
Broad in the shoulders, he was just tall enough to make me feel my submission. He had a thick, muscular chest, lightly dusted with hair that I wanted to run my fingers through and bury my face in. It’d take both of my hands to wrap around his biceps, and I’m not sure I’d be able to get them all the way around his thighs. I’d have bet my next paycheck they were rock hard too.
The leather he wore hugged everything and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. My asshole had clenched when he stepped up to my cage, the outline of his cock filling my vision. I had no idea if it was hard or soft, but I almost hoped for hard because it looked
huge
to me, and I’d never felt anything like that before. The pants could’ve been misleading, but I didn’t think so. My cock leaked when I tried to imagine him buried inside me.
I would’ve been the first to admit I wasn’t the most experienced gay man in the world. Having been closeted for so long, it took forever for me to venture out to a club. It wasn’t until after leaving my parents’ house and starting college that I felt like I could breathe. I’d been exploring my sexuality over the last four and a half years, and I shocked the hell out of myself when my friend Mike brought me to this club for the first time. My cock had been hard the entire evening. I’d wanted so badly to be the one strapped to a spanking bench or St. Andrew’s Cross, feeling the flogger or hand or whatever.
It took me nearly six months to finally work up the nerve to approach Mike about learning more. He wasn’t comfortable teaching me—I learned later that was mostly because he was a sub himself—but he introduced me to a friend of his who was a Dom. Master Nash was straight, but he had been willing to show me the ropes. It was his encouragement that had me in a cage tonight.
My time with Master Nash had been nice but frustrating. While he used orgasm control and denial quite a bit to help guide me in learning what it meant to be submissive, my release had only ever come from my own hand. And though I had certainly been used to that—not many other options for a closely closeted gay man—it made for a very trying year.
I shook the thoughts off and looked out over the audience while keeping my head down. The auctioneer introduced me and mentioned my offer and preference, which made me blush. The Dom was still standing near my cage, and he didn’t even hesitate when the auctioneer started the bidding at two hundred dollars. I wondered if I’d get as much as the girl before me. I hoped so. The money was going for a good cause—this year, the local animal shelter—and I wanted to earn as much for it as I could.
The bid went up to three hundred, thanks to a guy toward the back. I couldn’t see who he was from where I stood, but the other guy countered right away. A third guy tried to outbid my Dom—named so because I wanted to belong to him badly—but he countered the third guy too. The three of them competed in fifty-dollar increments for some time, until my Dom raised the bid some two hundred dollars to eight hundred, sparking hoots from the audience.
“Eight hundred, going once!”
“Nine hundred!” the guy in the back called.
My Dom shook his head and raised his hand. “A thousand.”
The auctioneer glanced at me as if trying to figure out if I was worth a thousand dollars or not.
I
certainly didn’t believe I was. I stared wide-eyed at my Dom, forgetting all about protocol.
“A thousand, going once!” He glanced over at the other guy, then back to my Dom again. “Going twice!” Another few seconds pause, then: “Sold!”
I stepped off the stage in a bit of a daze, forgetting entirely the skimpy jock strap I wore that had embarrassed me earlier. Nothing else mattered to me but the Dom who had bought me.
My
Dom.
I thought I should be nervous. After all, I didn’t know anything about this guy, not even his name. I’d heard rumors of a Dom a couple of years back who had turned out to be a serial killer. But I wasn’t nervous, not even a little. He held himself with confidence, though I didn’t sense any arrogance in him, and I couldn’t find an ounce of cruelty in his facial expression.
When he approached, I didn’t even give it conscious thought. I fell to my knees and bowed my head immediately.
He rewarded me by petting my hair. “Good boy,” he murmured before stepping up to the table, and warmth at the praise filled me in a way Master Nash’s never had.
I waited, trying to steady my breathing as I stared at his black leather boots. I had the silly thought that they needed to be polished—it was something Master Nash had taught me to do—and nearly shook my head at myself before I remembered to stay still.
“Boy, you need to sign too,” my Dom said.
I stood and approached the table, giving a tentative smile to the lady in front of me, who gave me a frank, appraising look like the emcee had. I focused on the paper, read the promise—to disclose medical issues, discuss hard limits—and the waiver that I wouldn’t hold the Asylum responsible for anything that transpired. I had to take a breath so I didn’t shake when I signed, then passed the paper back to her.
She signed below mine and my Dom’s—Malcolm Tate, I saw on the paper—and set it to the side. “I’ll hold it for now. You can get a copy later, if you want it.”
“Thank you,” Mal said, then turned to me. “How about we find a quiet place to talk, boy?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, keeping my head bowed.
“Good.” He leaned in. “I know we’re just contracted for a scene, but if I don’t claim you for the evening, I know at least three other men who are going to harass you.”
I wasn’t sure
what
he meant by that. I’d played with more than a few of the unpartnered Doms here, and none of them had wanted me for more than one session.
I had to clear my throat to speak. “I’d like to stay with you, Sir.”
“Good boy,” he said, putting his hand on the back of my neck. I savored the praise and touch again. “Stay close but behind me, boy.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I followed him through the crowd, dodging a couple of hands, which irritated me. Dungeon etiquette said they shouldn’t be touching without my permission—or my Dom’s, since it was obvious I had one, at least for now. But I was focused enough on what was ahead to not let it get to me too much.
The main part of the dungeon stretched the depth of the building. It was filled with play areas and marked off by large rugs, though I’d seen the furniture moved often enough. My Dom led me to a quiet corner with a sofa, where a rather large lady sat with her sub on his knees at her feet.
“Sammy, this is my boy,” my Dom said, waving toward me as he sat on the other end of the couch. I immediately knelt at his feet, which he rewarded with another pet to my hair. I loved the “my boy” part—not “the guy I won,” but “my boy”—and hoped it meant what I wanted it to mean.
“Does he have a name other than ‘boy’?” she asked, and I couldn’t stop my smile.
“Good grief, woman, I just won him. I needed to get him out of that mess.” He waved a hand toward the event room, then turned to me and tilted my face up. I looked slightly higher, at his chin. “What’s your name, boy?”
If it had been Mike answering, he’d have popped off to Mistress Jen with something like, “Boy, Mistress. Isn’t that what you said?” and promptly gotten yanked over his Mistress’s knee and spanked. While I’d have loved to know what it felt like to be pulled over this man’s lap and spanked, I’d rather it be agreed on first, at least for now. “Kyle, Sir.”
“Hello, Kyle,” Sammy said to me, reaching out to pet my hair. I guessed these two were good friends of my Dom’s for her to not even hesitate to touch me.
“You know, you could ask me permission before you start molesting my boy,” my Dom growled.
Sammy laughed. “Oh ho, look at this, boy,” she said, nudging the man at her feet. “I think Master Mal’s got something here.”
The other sub smirked up at my Master. I thought I heard him mutter, “It’s about time,” but I couldn’t be sure. I guessed he was trying to behave.
Master Mal smacked him anyway. “Boy, I spoke up for you earlier. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Yes, Sir,” the other sub said meekly, but I saw a twinkle in his eyes.
“Kyle, this is Cam and Mistress Sammy, my closest friends.”
“Hello, Mistress.” I bowed my head at her, then looked at Cam. “Hello, Cam.”
He smiled widely at me. “Hi yourself, Kyle. Nice to meet you.” He glanced up at my Master. “So, Sir, going to play, then?”
“When I get a few quiet minutes with my boy and we can negotiate, yes.”
Mistress Sammy smirked. “Point. Well, then, we’re going to get set up. I’m taking the table right over here, if you need anything. I know you’re—”
“Just because you’re a Mistress…,” my Master growled, making Mistress Sammy laugh again.
She patted his cheek, then snapped her fingers at Cam. “Come on, boy. Let’s get that ass reddened for you. See if you can take what I’ve got, hmm?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Cam said, glancing at me and winking. I grinned.
“Kyle,” my Master called, and I looked up at his chin again. “I’d like you to sit next to me, address me by my name—Mal—and talk freely with me about your limits.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Mal.”
I swallowed. “Yes, Mal.” I stood and settled onto the sofa next to him. It felt very weird to be on an even level with him. But I had to admit, I liked what I saw in his eyes. They were dark, almost black, and I liked the seriousness I saw in them, the care and consideration.
Then he smiled and I forgot to breathe.
Deep dimples appeared on each side, and those gorgeous dark eyes twinkled. “How about this, first. I’m Mal Tate. It’s nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Here was a man who’d just paid a thousand dollars to possibly beat my ass black and blue, who’d ordered me around and stared at my mostly naked body. And he was introducing himself. I continued to chuckle as I shook his hand. “Kyle Bingham. Nice to meet you too.”
He chuckled. “Well, now that that weirdness is out of the way….”
I laughed again.
“Right. Let’s talk about medical issues.”
“None, S—uh, Mal. Nothing medical and I’m tested regularly.”
He nodded. “As am I, though condoms are a must if anything sexual happens.”
I nodded too. I found myself not only hoping things did get sexual—
pleaseGodmakeitsexual
—but that we saw each other often and long enough to not need condoms anymore. I’d never gone without one, but there was something in this man that made me want to give him everything.
That thought
did
scare me some. I still had to keep my wits about me. If I got too caught up with someone, I’d slip somewhere and my family would find out about it. I hadn’t exaggerated about them disowning me, and since they currently owned my loft and car, that could be disastrous. Or at least extremely uncomfortable for a while. Not to mention losing my
family
.
Mal brought me back to the conversation. “Good. Now, hard limits. I have a few of my own, and I want to know yours.”
“I have the main ones most do—no kids, animals, crap, that sort of thing. I hate having the bottom of my feet touched, and I can’t always control what I do when they are. It’s simpler all around if I avoid the possibility of kicking the man wielding the flogger.”
He laughed at this. “Smart move. Any others?”
“No broken skin—not broken deliberately, anyway. And that doesn’t count, like, hickeys. I know stuff can happen accidentally, but I don’t get into needles or any of that stuff.”
Another nod. “That’s fair. I don’t like to break skin. I have once or twice by accident, but I’ll take care of you if anything happens.”
“I don’t know why, but… I know you will. That sounded stupid,” I muttered, burying my face in my hands. I wasn’t the most confident person, but usually I could at least hold a conversation. Mal was tying my tongue up horribly.
“No, it didn’t. You do need to be careful, though. I… lost a friend when he wasn’t safe.”
“I’m sorry.” I looked up. “I will. If we play tonight, my trainer is here. He’ll check in. If I leave, I’m to tell my best friend and check in with him.”
Mal smiled again, that gorgeous wide one. “I’m glad to hear it. Any other hard limits?”
“Bodily fluids,” I blurted.
He blinked at me. “You… don’t want them?”
I blushed. “No. I mean… I’ll, uh, blow you—” My cheeks got redder. “—uh, and swallow. But, uh, nothing else.”
He reached out and brushed a finger over my cheek, then leaned in. “I love the idea of seeing those lips wrapped around my cock,” he murmured, and his deep voice and the words went straight to my dick. It hadn’t gone down since the sale, and now it surged, hardening even more. I think I let out a whimper, because he chuckled darkly. “Oh, I like that sound, boy.”
I
know
I whimpered that time.
He brushed my cheek again, then sat up once more. “Our hard limits align pretty well. I have limits on the type of pain I’ll give. I have no experience with single tail, dragon tail, or bullwhips.” I shuddered involuntarily, which was apparently the right reaction because he smiled again. “Good. Someday, if you’re that interested and have the patience for me to learn, I’d try it, but as of right now, it’s not something I’d want to explore. There are plenty of other ways to make you fly.”
I
really
liked the sound of that “someday.” I didn’t know if there was something beyond the pull of his dominance, his beauty, that called to me, but I wanted it. I wanted to get lost in it, drown in him. Yet again, the thought scared me and I shivered slightly, but I pushed the fear aside. I wasn’t about to find out that night, and I’d have time to think clearly after the scene.
“Are you cold? They tend to keep it cool in here.” He leaned over the end of the couch before I could answer, and dug around in something, then surfaced with a blanket. “Here, put this on until we play.”