As I walk to his hotel room, I can feel anger and shame beginning to go to war. Anger that I'd used this agreement for my own ends once more, anger that I'd known full well what I was doing, when I showed up at Vince's office with a bottle of lube in my pants' pocket. I knew he'd push me, knew he'd make sure that I was conceding to him, and I took the lube as a tacit reminder to myself that I was. This whole thing has been me giving into him from the word go, all my decisions, all my choices, they've all been governed by his machinations. I'm nothing but a pet to him, something to use as he sees fit, and I know that. I knew that when I entered into this, but that doesn't mean I have to like, doesn't mean I have to accept this humiliation. Only it does, because I agreed to it to save those I love. The road to hell is paved with good intentions though, and right now, I'm hurtling through on the express line straight to the seventh lair. Anger, I feel, is justified in this situation, but shame makes just as strong an argument. I'm nothing but the pet that slept his way to the mid-card, nothing more, nothing less; I'm one of those people I despise, using my body to gain what I want, just a whore. I swore I wouldn't use this agreement to give me a leg up again, and yet I did just that. The first time things weren't going my way, I went to him, offered myself up on a silver platter to get what I wanted. I broke my own rules to get out of this endless feud, and now he's dangling the title in front of me too. I don't want the belt, well I do, but I don't want it this way. I wanted to get it on my own merits, only is there ever going to be a way for me to achieve anything in this company based on my own talent? Right now, everything I've achieved has been through lying on my back and letting Vince fuck me. I've always prided myself on the strength of my convictions, on my morals and beliefs, but for this agreement, I'm throwing them away, for a given value of success, everything I take pride in is being tossed in the garbage. When I went to him, I knew what would happen, and to my shame, like a good boy scout, I came prepared, lube in pocket. I took lube, knowing what I was doing, knowing what he would want from me, and that is my shame.
I'm beginning to understand him all too well, his wants, his desires, I can almost predict them. The way our bodies work together, the familiarity of the feel of him inside me, and whilst it pains me to admit it, I take some crumb of comfort in the gentleness of his caress. It's all growing overwhelming, it's all becoming too much for me. I was coerced into this, I need to remember that, you can't fuck a man gay, you can't change someone with physicality, you can't. What you can do is give them knowledge, give them ideas, teach them, show them, and as I arrive at the over-priced hotel, I wish for nothing more than my ignorance back.
The woman at reception scowls at me, and waves me over. I ignore her, heading straight for the elevator, I don't want to deal with her, don't want to explain anything to her, I just want to shower. I want to be clean, to wash him out of and off of me.
Once, I'm showered, I wrap a robe around me, there's little doubt in my mind as to why Vince wanted me to come here. It might have been a confusingly given request, but I'm here for him to fuck, so I might as well make his access easier. I order room service, and absently push the food around the plate, eating a little, but mostly forming it into piles on the crockery. There's one thing, I've discovered over the course of this agreement that pains me more than I'd care to admit, and that's that Vince and I are alike in many ways. We can have conversations, we share interests, we're both passionate about wrestling, he indulges my interest in the stars, he's sent me texts with addresses of art galleries in the cities we pass through with exhibitions he thinks I might enjoy, our minds are constantly working, constantly thinking and over-thinking, competing with anything and everyone, always seeking to be the best, and I can't bear the thought of sharing so many things in common with him, yet it's undeniable to me. We're similar, but there is one difference. One major divide between us, I could never do this, I could never force myself on another person the way he's forced himself on me. The long-term consequences of his forcing me into this is something I'm scared to think about, I don't want to consider what the possible outcome will be, I don't want to consider what he'll do to me once my two years are up.
The longer I sit alone, the more my thoughts spiral out of control, the more they turn bleak and hopeless. I cast about for something to distract myself with, the TV is an option but I can't bear the idea of the noise it'd cause. My attention is caught by the vase of flowers on a side table, more white lilies, not calla though, different ones that I don't know. I grab my cell phone and go to Google. It's a ridiculous pursuit, but I want to know what kind of flowers these are, so intent in my search I don't realize that Vince has entered the room until he clears his throat. I almost jump and turn to face him, my cell clutched to my chest.
"You having fun?" He asks me, a smirk on his lips. "What're you doing?" He reaches out and snags the tie from my hair, making it fall around my face.
"Why'd you do that?" I think I sound exasperated, it's not an important or necessary question but his fixation with having my hair hanging around my face, is truly becoming bothersome, there's a reason I tie it back so much.
"Do what, Pet?" He sounds slightly bored and I should maybe take the hint that petulant questioning isn't a good idea, but that rebel streak in me is apparently sick of being curtailed in favour of taking the easiest path with Vince.
"Mess with my hair." He shrugs and leads me to the bedroom.
"You don't like it?" I make some kind of non-committal noise, I'm not sure if I like it or not, it' not something I've thought about. It's just kind of irritating, it's just kind of in the way, it's just kind of forever going to be associated with him. No one is ever going to be able to touch my hair without summoning up pictures of him staring at me. "You're beautiful." He raises an eyebrow, stroking my hair once more. "You have to have noticed that." He laughs softly, and gestures to the bed. "I miss the blond though." He shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it over a chair. I sit on the bed as directed, staring at him, torn between dumbfounded and confused.
"When did you see me blond?" It's a stupid question, fully deserving of the laughter he gives me.
"I don't read, Pet." He laughs, sitting on a chair to untie his dress shoes; I'm even more confused by the non sequitur. "I watched some of your earlier work." He sets his shoes down and watches me carefully, some faraway look in his eyes. I've heard that Vince hates reading, prefers video packages to get information, it must be how he knew who I was.
"Before you hired me?" I blurt out, feeling stupid for asking as he laughs again.
"It's why I hired you." He smiles at me, some expression I don't want to think about on his face. Alls I can think of is how long had he been planning this, how long has this agreement been on the cards for me. Am I only with the WWE because he wanted to fuck me? As much as I want to know, I don't want to ask, I just nod and stare down at my hands. "You've eaten?" He asks, looking at me critically, eyes narrowed.
"I ordered food." That much is true, I mostly pushed it around the plate but I ordered food like he told me to, he nods, still looking at me, the expression from earlier back on his face, and I still don't want to think about it. "What do want from me tonight, Sir?" I blurt out, anything to keep from having to consider that expression in his eyes. He blinks rapidly; looking genuinely surprised, and takes off his tie, as though busying himself pointlessly.
"A show, Pet." He glances up at me, and tosses me the bottle of lube I left in his office, a smirk on his lips.
"A show?" I swallow, I can guess at what he wants me to do, in fact I'm entirely certain I know exactly what he wants to watch but I don't know why.
"I wanna watch you play with yourself, Pet. Use those fingers, open yourself up for me, I wanna see you." He watches me carefully, as I untie the robe, and slide it from my shoulders, then shift awkwardly to the middle of the bed, my head bowed. There's something incredibly humiliating about this, something that doesn't sit quite right with me, even after the amount of times Vince has fucked me, I don't like performing solo for him, it's almost too intimate for my liking. This isn't just a show for his benefit, it's showing him what I like, showing him how I really like to be touched, not what I've grown accustomed to from him. I coat one hand with lube, and begin jacking off, starting slow but gaining speed, rubbing the head of my length, teasing the slit with one nail. I try to keep my mind blank but it drifts along on its own, summoning up a mental audience, different eyes watching me, warmer more familiar eyes. "Inside, Pet." I'm actually grateful for the interruption to my thoughts. I plant my feet wide on the bed and grab the lube once more, recoating my fingers. The first finger I ease inside of me draws a soft gasp from my lips. I open my eyes to look at him, but he's staring between my legs, staring at the sight of my finger inside me. I add another, gasping once more, drawing his attention to my face, I meet his eyes calmly, as uncomfortable as this makes me, it feels like somehow I've a sliver of power here, as though right now, I could demand anything of him. "Talk to me, Pet." His voice is rough, firm and demanding, and just like that the sliver of power I felt is snatched from me, his gaze far more than I can bear, my eyes flicker around the room, resting on the vase of lilies. "What'd you think is gonna happen in the playroom?" I take a deep breath, my back arching as my fingers push against my prostate.
"It'll hurt." I say softly, pressing my fingers against my prostate once more, drawing a pleasured moan from me. "I'm not sure how, but you'll hurt me, Sir." I keep my eyes closed; carefully trying to keep my mind blank, but the whip bruised Monet back of the pet from the first time I was at the beach house won't leave me in peace. "You'll whip me." I whimper at the thought, the idea of leather biting my skin, my own back blossoming with water lily wounds, just the thought brings something like a cold sweat over me. "Or spank me, something that'll hurt. Fuck..." I work a third finger inside of me, pumping them in and out. "Maybe you'll cut me." The idea of blood trickling down my bruised back comes to me and I hold back a shudder, my other hand starts stroking my cock lazily. "You'll push... Push me as far as you can. Just to prove you're in control and it'll hurt." I hear him moving; hear fabric falling to the floor. "But, you'll make me come." I add quietly, I don't want to admit it but there will be pleasure in the pain he gives me, after I endure the pain, there will be pleasure, and after I endure that, there'll be the horrid comfort. "You'll look after me." I ease another finger inside of me, four stretching me open, spreading and thrusting in and out, definitely a show for him, I've never had four inside of me before, it feels odd, not quite painful, but on the edge of it.
"Why?" His voice is close, horribly close to me, his weight settles between my spread legs. "Why will I look after you?" His hand trails up one of my thighs.
"It's what a master does, Sir." Some dark fire ignites in his eyes, something burning and dangerous focused on, his naked body hovers over me, keeping me in place.
"Is that what I am, Pet? Your master?" He's already gotten me to imply it, but that's not enough for him apparently. He wants me to give in, to admit it. He's been tolerating my disobedience, but in truth, there's no doubts in my mind, he's always been in charge here, in this, he's always had the upper hand. His hands take mine from me and pin them above my head, one of his hands holding my wrists down, the other lining up his cock with my asshole. He stares down at me, that fire still burning bright. Every instinct I have is screaming unsafe, this isn't safe, run! I want to listen to my own advice, but I can't, his weight bears down on me, pinning me to the bed.
"Haven't you been in charge since day one? Do you really need to hear me say it? Acknowledge the truth?" He stares down at me, the fire in his eyes now an inferno, his lips brush my ear.
"Yes." He whispers and leans back, staring at me once more.
"You..." I glance away, my eyes flickering over the vase of lilies once more. Google informed me that they're stargazers, and there's something about them, I can't decide if I hate them or love them, their snowy white petals and big dark pollen laden stamen, I can't chose if they're beautiful or hideous. "You're my master, Sir." For now, I can't help but mentally adding that caveat. This isn't permanent, this isn't forever, sooner rather than later, I'll be free from this agreement. He eases into me, his cock filling me in one slow glide. His lips catch my own, kissing me with surprising care, gentle and thorough.
"Good boy." He mutters in my ear, and he starts fucking me leisurely, rocking into my body, building my orgasm piece by piece, his cock bumping my prostate and his hand on my dick. He watches me closely, his eyes staring into my own, as though he was searching my soul. My arms wrap around his neck, drawing him down for another kiss, anything to escape for his heavy gaze. My body moves with his, easy and familiar, my legs around his waist squeezing, trying to draw him into me faster, harder, anything to bring the end of this about sooner, but he won't be swayed. He fucks me with horrid slowness, in better circumstances, with a different partner, I'd say I was being made love to, but here, now, with Vince, it's just something I want finished. I'd sooner take the agony of my first fuck over this.
His lips keep capturing mine, soft gentle kisses, and for the first time ever I freely allow the noises he's sought for so long from me, to tumble from my lips, gentle gasps, soft moans, a subtle soundtrack to the fuck he's giving me, only in my mind, it's not him, in my mind I have to keep repeating agape not eros over and over. Finally, he brings me to orgasm, my cum smearing between our bodies and his filling me before long. I lie staring up at the ceiling as he flops over beside me, his finger running through the cum on my stomach. He brings his cum-coated fingers to my lips, and I lick it clean without thought. His now clean, if damp, fingers run through my hair, and he turns my face toward him, his eyes scanning over it, something distant and thoughtful in them. He draws me closer to him, forcing me to lie with my head on his chest. I wonder if this is the last time it'll be gentle, if this is the last of the mask of clemency and now all I'll see is his cruelty. He's won, fully and totally. I've given him permission to do his worst, and I don't know if he will or he'll show restraint so that he doesn't break his new toy the first time he plays with it.
"Rest, Pet." He mutters against my hair, his hands settling around me, holding me close like a lover. I close my eyes on command, hating how it appears the Punk from his office was a slip. I'm not a person to him, not anymore, I'm Pet, nothing more, nothing less than the pet that slept his way to the mid-card. Sleep comes to me that night and I resent it, resent that in Vince's arms, I can find the rest I'm so often denied.
A few weeks later, I'm summoned to meet Vince on his private jet, with the intent of travelling to his beach house together. I've put off telling anyone that I was going away for the weekend, put off talking with anyone about anything really, but I suppose I should tell someone, just in case, though I'm not sure what the in case might be, it's not likely that Vince would kill me, at least I hope it's not. We've never travelled together before, I'm not sure what to expect and honestly Vince has giving me no indication, what I should anticipate.
"Pet." I look away from the window, I've been staring out of, watching the land below us shrinking. Perspective is an odd thing, how from a distance everything that seems so big and important is really just small and insignificant. "Here, I think you'll enjoy this." He hands me a book, I glance at the cover, Dracula. It's been a long time since I read this book. I can't help but wonder why he chose this particular tome, I flick through the pages vaguely, trying to recall the plot.
"Thank you, Sir." I settle into read, and he returns to ignoring me, both of us in a strangely comfortable silence. I'm not sure how long we sit like that, but it feels like no time has passed at all before he speaks again.
"Are you hungry?" I shake my head, glancing up briefly and returning to the hapless Harker. "Thirsty?" He asks and this time I dog-ear the page I'm on, and set the book down.
"Sir?" I have the feeling he wants my attention, though why he was going about it in a roundabout fashion I've no idea.
"Are you a member of the Mile High Club, Pet?" He asks me, his chin resting in his palm. I shake my head and he laughs softly, unzipping his pants, and stroking his cock. I stand and untie my belt, waiting for him to give me some kind of order.
"Drop them, and turn round." I tug my pants down, and turn my back to him as ordered. "Spread those cheeks for me, Pet." I expose hole to him, humiliation is something I'm slowly beginning to be painfully accustomed to, being bared like this makes me feel horribly vulnerable, it's something I truly hate. A finger breaches me roughly, I'm more than grateful for the lube he used, a second joins the first, and there's nothing gentle or pleasant about this preparation. It's all expedient and efficient, his fingers pumping into me hard, stretching me quickly. It's over far too quickly for my liking, and he pulls me down to his lap, his cock penetrating me, my back against his chest. He gives me the briefest of moments to adjust before he starts fucking up into me, his hands clamped on my hips, giving me cues on movement. This is nothing like the last time we fucked, there's nothing soft, nothing gentle about this, it's rough and dirty, his nails digging into my skin, his teeth worrying my neck. I match his pace, and once he's satisfied that I'm moving independently, his hands leave my hips, to snake under my shirt to pinch and tug at my nipples. His fingers are rough, his thrusts up into me hard, his teeth biting that little bit more harshly. "Faster." He hisses, and I do as bid, forcing my body to move quicker, rising and falling faster. "Touch yourself." My hand moves to my cock before he's completed his order, my orgasm is close, I can feel it churning in the pit of my stomach. I keep moving through my orgasm, riding him until I can feel his cum inside me. He pulls me back against his chest, lazily petting my stomach. He catches my cum-covered hand and raises it to my lips, another thing I've grown so very used to is licking cum from my fingers. He sighs contentedly behind me, and seems to almost hug me to him. I lie resting against him, carefully not thinking about how much I'd enjoyed that, about how quickly I'd come, carefully wishing that I'd not left my book so very far away. I'm beginning to hate myself, hate who I am in this agreement. Eventually, I slide from his lap, and fix my pants, retaking my seat. I can feel his cum leaking from me, his smirk as he watches me, and try as I might I can't quite deny that I enjoyed, that there's a part of me that's looking forward to more of the same.
When we land, I send a message to Ace, Colt's in developmental, he's too busy for my shit. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
Going to be away this weekend. Phone will be off. -sent
You keep getting weekends off boy, you banging the boss? - Ace
There's a brief stab of fury, part of me thinks that Colt's told him what's going on, but it dissipates quickly, Ace is joking, he knows nothing. It's pure paranoia.
Oh yeah, I'm so Paul's type. - sent
Really? I had Steph down as the one into skinny fatasses. Have fun, Punk. - Ace
It's reassuring that Ace knows nothing, Colt wouldn't betray me, unless he thought I was in danger, and I'm not, I think at least. Colt is unfalteringly loyal to me if nothing else, I'm more than certain he'll take his knowledge of this agreement to the grave untold, unless I gave the go ahead.
We arrive at the beach house, I'm told that we're going to the club tonight, I've to be ready for eight, and my clothes will be laid out for me. I nod vaguely, and am left to my own devices, Vince apparently having important business to handle. I carry my bag upstairs to the white room; the stars on the ceiling seem to have expanded slightly, inching down the wall, like pretty mould. I lie on the bed staring up at it for a while, Dracula open beside me, I'd half intended to read more, but just lying there, thinking of nothing is strangely comforting. I think I must fall asleep because the cell phone Vince gave me wakes me up at seven, the alarm shrill and jarring. I sit up, and scrub at my eyes, on the bed beside me is a pile of white cloth, Dracula sitting on the nightstand, a bookmark poking out of the top, marking my place. I assume Vince left the clothes and marked my place for me, when I stand I realize he also took off my sneakers and socks. I decide to shower rather than puzzle over the confusing actions of Vince.
I meet him in the living room, the white clothes could have been worse, nothing wrong with a dress shirt, but I feel more than a little ridiculous in white slacks, but at least this time he let me wear proper underwear, though the white dress shoes are a little too much for my liking. He's leaning against the bar, sipping at a drink, the collar in his hand. I bow my head and let him fasten it tightly around my throat; his fingers linger over the leather briefly. He fusses with my hair, unable to decide if he wants it behind my ears of not, he settles on not, and cups my face, examining me, before kissing my forehead.
"Remember the rules, Pet. Don't speak unless spoken to, don't look anyone in the eye, always call me Sir." I nod, I remember, I hate this public submission shit, I can handle submitting to him sexually, but in public, like one of those pets, it's almost too much for me to handle, but as I sit in the car, it occurs to me that I am a pet, a miserable pet who slept his way to the mid-card.
As we walk through the club, I can feel eyes on me, it's a very disconcerting feeling, knowing that there are an unknown number of men, staring at me, thinking who knows what about me. ("You're beautiful. You have to have noticed that.") Vince's words to me back in his hotel room weeks ago, I've never really considered myself beautiful but it seems in this club, I am perhaps covetable if nothing else. We're led to a table near the middle of the room, it seems tonight, Vince has decided to show me off. He orders for both of us, and we eat in silence. There's some classical music playing this evening, I don't know the name, but I know the tune. I have to fight down the urge to ask Vince what it is. Halfway through the main course of dinner, Vince's friend who had invited us to dinner last time, approaches us, his pet standing quietly behind him, head bowed as Vince and the man talk. I stare at the tablecloth and let the sound of their conversation wash over me.
"Hmm, well, he's not ready for that yet, are you, Pet?" Vince says to me, I raise my eyes to stare at the knot of his tie.
"I'm sorry, Sir... Not ready for what?" I murmur, I wonder if I was supposed to be paying attention or not, I was lost trying work out what the pattern on the tablecloth.
"Being part of the floor show." Vince's friend tilts my chin up slightly and withdraws his hand quickly; I carefully study the light fitting behind him. "You do choose the oddest creatures." The man laughs. "Very pretty eyes, but really, let the boy sleep. Those bags must exceed the luggage allowance on most airlines." He laughs once more and turns from me. I glance at Vince, a look of concern on his face.
"My pet makes certain lifestyle choices that are not exactly suitable for his profession." Vince laughs, and pushes one of the other chairs at our table out. "Sit, you're making the place look untidy."
"For a little while. Not another druggie?" The man shakes his head as he sits, his pet stays standing, docile and well-trained, staring down at the floor.
"The opposite." Vince laughs. "Show him your knuckles, Pet." I lay my hands on the table, the drug free clearly visible. The man picks up one of my hands and pushes at the sleeve of my shirt.
"How much of him is covered?" He asks, clearly referring to my tattoos.
"Not half as much as he'd like, hmm, Pet?" Vince leans over the table, and tilts my face up, his thumb brushing over my lips. "How much of your pretty skin would you like covered in silly pictures, hmm?" He's smiling at me, something gentle and soft, something that makes my gut clench.
"As much as you want, Sir." I answer, hoping that's what he needed me to say to impress his friend, hoping that was simperingly submissive enough to satisfy. Vince laughs softly and takes my hand from his friend, brushing a kiss over my knuckles before letting my hand go. I quickly clasp my hands together in my lap, and return to staring at the tablecloth, silently hoping for Vince's friend to go away quickly. Eventually, he leaves, and Vince catches my chin again.
"You did a good job, Pet." He kisses my forehead, and returns to eating. I nervously clear my throat, causing him to look at me. "What?"
"Uh... Sir..." I feel incredibly stupid, but the song is really beginning to annoy me. He raises an eyebrow and looks at me expectantly. "What song is this, Sir?" Vince laughs at me and shakes his head.
"Vivaldi, Pet, the Four Seasons, this one is Winter." I nod slightly; I'm not overly knowledgeable on Italian composers. "You're not a fan?" He asks, regarding me carefully.
"I... No, but I like it, Sir." I mutter, which is true enough, whilst I might prefer thrashing guitars to violins, I do like other types of music.
"Hmm, really?" Vince looks genuinely surprised. "What's your favourite piece?" I resist the urge to snort at him, classical music; just because it's played without an amp doesn't mean it's not still a song. My favourite classical piece is a big question though, there's several I really like, but a favourite? I'm not sure I have one.
"Lacrimosa or maybe Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, I'm not sure..." I trial off slightly, and eat more of my food, Vince is staring at me, surprise still on his face.
"Mozart and Bach? You like the Germans?" Vince laughs, and I shrug, German and religious, I suppose. "I've always liked the William Tell Overture."
"Ride of the Valkyries too, no doubt, Sir" I mutter without thought, and he laughs, sounds actually amused, and I can't quite keep the smile off my face. So I bow my head further, and finish eating, ignoring the part of me that's rather pleased with making Vince laugh.
Finally, after we've eaten, he leads me to another room, this one dark, the walls and floor covered in something that looks easy to clean. He settles in an overly stuffed chair, a smaller hard one beside it, he gestures to the smaller seat and I sit, still feeling strangely relaxed from our brief conversation, briefly it had been almost normal, briefly it had been almost nice, but now the mood is different, in this room there's an air of anticipation.
"Watch the show, Pet." I look up from the floor to the raised stage. A young, naked man is chained to a St. Andrew's cross, his head bowed, arms and legs stretched. I watch as a master whips him, lash after lash on his back, making him cry out in pain, tears eventually running down his cheeks. Over and over the whips falls, his back becoming red, littered with welts, like a Portuguese man o war sting. Vince takes my hand and pulls it to his lap, his cock exposed and hard. My hand wraps around his erection without his guidance, stroking him without thought, my attention on the scene in front of me. When the whip finally falls to the floor, I see the glint of steel and watch as the razor is dragged across the pet's stomach, delicate streams of blood trickle down his stomach. He cries out but I hear the pleasure in his cries, as painful and awful as this looks, he's loving it, his cock is literally weeping. It's like watching a car crash, I can't stop looking even though I want to, the worst of it is, I have the feeling that this is all for my benefit, this show is somehow for me, and Vince has arranged it to prove a point to me. The end of the scene disturbs me, the master jerks his pet off, but his hand is wrapped around the pet's throat, his eyes bulging and tonguing lolling. The pet struggles for breath as he comes, and I see nothing arousing about putting your life in someone else's hands like that, but Vince apparently does, because he comes almost at the same time as the pet, his cum coats my fingers, and I absently lick them clean as the audience politely applauds the performers.
With the show is over, I stare down at the floor, trying to pick out a pattern. I just jerked Vince off in a roomful of strangers, whilst watching live BDSM porn. I licked Vince's cum from my hand without being told to, I sprung an erection that I wish would go away, in short, I enjoyed this whole thing far more than I want to have. Vince leaves me sitting alone, my hands clasped in my lap, eyes trained on the floor. I feel like a misbehaving child left on the naughty step, but I didn't do anything wrong and a tiny part of me is stung by being left here like this, whilst he goes to chat with his friends.
"So... You're the new one, hmm?" A hand catches my chin and forces my face upwards, I keep my eyes averted, scanning the unfamiliar crowd trying to spot Vince. "Scruffy little mongrel, aren't you?" The man mutters, his thumb moving over my lips. "Pretty though. Your Mast-"
"Yes, his Master." Vince snatches the wrist of the man, pulling his hand away from me. "You like this place?" Vince sounds furious, his voice low and cold. "You like the freedom, the anonymity?" I chance a glance up, and the man is nodding rapidly, his eyes wide, struggling to free himself from the tight grip on his wrist. "This is my property." Vince kisses my hair softly. "Don't you fucking dare touch what's mine again." He throws the man's arm away from him, ignoring him in favour of hauling me to my feet, dragging me out and away from the club. The only thing on my mind is I'm not his property, I'm mine, I own myself, I'm not something Vince owns.
When we get back to the house, I wonder if it's tonight that we'll be going to the playroom. I'm not certain I'm ready for it, but I've already agreed, so there's nothing I can so. Instead of the playroom though, Vince storms through the house, and out to the pool, still dragging me with him. He pushes me onto one of the seats, and glares down at me.
"Defend yourself." He hisses. "Tell people not to touch you, call on me, fucking punch motherfucking assholes in the mouth." He sighs, and crouches down in front of me, catching my hands in his. "You're mine. You're allowed to protect yourself from them if I'm not there." He sighs and stands, leaving me to go back inside; he comes back shortly and sets a glass of Pepsi down on the table by me. He sits sipping something that's so alcoholic, I can smell it from my seat. He's still bristling with rage, but it seems directionless, I know he's not angry with me, probably the man who touched me, but it seems like there's something more. I'm far from certain how this pet bullshit works, but it seems to me that Vince's reaction was a little over the top for what was nothing more than holding my chin and being a bit rude, after all his friend did the same thing. I give up trying to figure him out, and stare up at the stars, grateful it's a new moon, nothing to dilute the beauty of the galaxy spread out before me. "What's on your mind, Pet?" Vince asks, his voice under control once more. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, he's staring at me, his eyes flitting over me, as though he can't decide where to look first, it confuses me too much to even think about so I turn from the sky to him, drawing his attention to my face.
"That show was for my benefit?" He nods, and I take a deep breath "I don't like the idea of being choked Vince, whipping, cutting, anything else, but I can't be choked." I don't trust him with my life, I've no choice about my career or my body, but my life, he's not getting to hold that in the balance.
"Hmm... Alright, Pet." He looks over at me, it's too dark for me to make a guess at the expression on his face, his hand reaches out and tucks my hair back behind my ear. "Tell me, what constellation is that?" I follow his finger and answer him. These odd stargazing sessions confuse me more than most other things he's forced me through, but it's at least one thing that I'm sure I have the upper hand in. We talk about the stars for a while, me explaining the stories behind the constellations. Eventually he points to the star crossed lovers. Altair and Vega, a mortal and a fairy, separated by the goddess of heaven with a wide river in the sky. I explain how once a year all the magpies in the world unite and form a bridge over that river, so the lovers can be together for a single night.
"One night?" Vince glances at me and I shrug.
"I've always wondered if one would be enough, can you sustain love with just one night." I hug my knees up to my chest, and sigh.
"Depends on the person and the night, Pet." He says, staring up at the stars. "If it were true love, pure unselfish love, then one night, one perfect night could sustain it for eternity." He sounds oddly wistful, part of me wants to say something to him, offer something to shake him out of his maudlin reverie, but instead my mind is caught by his words. Pure unselfish love, agape, undoubtedly the degree of love he means, the degree of love Colt claimed to have for me. Is that what he wants from me, one night where the stars align and he gets his bridge? Would one night be enough for him? I can feel Vince's eyes on me, studying me as I watch the stars, lost in my own thoughts. He stands suddenly, quickly, almost knocking his chair over. I turn to look at him questioningly. "Good night, Pet." His voice is gruff; I don't know this tone in the least. "You'll wake me up tomorrow morning, eight a.m. put that mouth of yours to use." I nod and he glowers at me.
"Yes, Sir." I mutter quietly, and he leaves me to stare up at the sky. One night, it's quite a thought. One night where I don't have burning hatred for the man fucking me, one night where everything that feels good is done with love, not an undercurrent of coercion, one night where Co... Would, could one night be enough?
Eventually, I go to bed, but sleep doesn't come to me, I lie staring up at the ceiling at the painted stars that creep down the walls, spilling beautiful disorder and colour over the horrid white. I didn't really expect to sleep much, but an hour or two would have been nice, yet behind my eyelids lie a myriad things I don't want to see, and above me is my painted sky. It's not a hard decision to forgo sleep and stare at the unchanging sky, considering what a futile endeavour Vince has assigned someone. There's no way to accurately capture the night sky, nothing is quite as it seems, what we see, simply isn't what's there.
Morning comes far too quickly, and I find myself pushing Vince's door open, his room dark save the electronic glow of his alarm clock, 07:58. I've two minutes to get decide how to do this. Vine is lying on his back, soft snores coming from him, it's a surprise that he's still asleep, I'd almost been looking forward to having an awkward conversation about literature, on the nightstand by his glasses is the copy of Moby Dick I read the last time I was here, there's a part of me that'd like to hear what he thinks about it. I stand by his bed for a few moments, wondering what I'm supposed to do, it all seems surreal to me, that I'm standing here trying to figure out how to give him a morning blowjob.
Eventually, I give up thinking this through, and lift the covers, grateful he decided to sleep naked. I lick my palm and wrap my hand around his cock, stroking him slowly, before taking a deep breath and taking his head into my mouth, sucking on it lightly. I try and keep my mind blank, but that damn porno Colt sent me keeps flickering through my head, almost me on his knees in front of almost Colt, strong hands in his hair, gentle guidance, no force, no pressure, just gentle reassurance and understanding. Would one night really be enough? I can't quite shake this thought from my mind; one night spent indulging in these actions with love as the motivation behind them, how different would it be? Would it be better, would it be worse? Vince's fingers tangling in my hair, jars me from my futile thoughts, and he guides me faster, moving my head up and down, fucking my throat. He comes surprisingly quickly, holds me down, his cock in my throat until my fingers are scrabbling at his hand, desperate for air. I swallow his cum, and glance up at him; he's looking down at me, but in the gloom of his room, his expression is hard to read. He snorts and turns over, I take that as my being dismissed.
I retreat down stairs, and start making coffee. As I sit listening to the machine, I wonder what he's planned for the day. If the start is anything to go by, he's not in the mood for being gentle with me, perhaps my agreeing to enter the playroom has finally led to him casting of clemency in favour of cruelty. I glance at the heavy locked door that leads to the basement, at some stage this weekend; I'm going to have to enter that room. A few minutes later, he enters the room. I watch as he inserts the heavy key into the lock and opens the door. He comes over to the island and sets the key down in front of me, helping himself to a cup of coffee. I sip at my own and stare at the key.
"Your safe word will be Saint, if I do something you don't like, something you can't handle, you say that and I'll stop." I don't look at him; instead focus on the iron key on the table. It looks old, subtly ornate. Saint, I almost want to laugh, he's mocking me, mocking everything I was, only he doesn't realize he's made a poor choice there, the Second City Saints are my family. There's something of an irony that my safe word is something to intrinsically tied to Colt, without even meaning to Vince is reaffirming something I know to be true, that Colt is my sanctuary, he's my safe haven, even when he's not there, he'll still keep me safe. "When you decide you want to go play, come give me the key." He catches my chin and raises my face, forcing me to look him in the eye. "This is your decision, Pet. Remember that." His firm grip at odds with his gentle tone and almost kind expression. I nod dumbly. "Good boy." He kisses my forehead and leaves the room, the key still on the counter.
I waste the morning, drinking coffee, showering, and reading. I've not gotten much further with Dracula, but the more I read, the more I sympathize with Mina, the more I feel for her, understand her plight. Just after noon, I find myself standing the kitchen once more, staring at the door, turning the key over and over in my hand.
"Avoidance, Pet?" He's pressed against my back, his arms looped round my waist. "Didn't think that was your style." He chuckles, nips at his mark on my neck. I shrug rather than answer, I'm not avoiding, there's no way for me to avoid this, it's omnipresent, permeating everything I've tried to do this morning. He steps away from me, and fixes another cup of coffee, going to the living room. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, before following him. He looks at me, and gestures of one of the armchairs. I sit, feeling like a kid in the principal's office, my knee bouncing nervously.
"Pet, you're a fully grown man, not a scared child, make a choice." His words may be harsh but the tone is gentle, coercing, goading me into making what is, by his estimation, the right choice, the decision I made before I came here. I stand and pull the tie from my hair, my eyes narrowing as I look at him.
"Let's go, Sir." I toss him the key, and walk to the kitchen. I stand there trying to keep my outer bravado in place, inside I'm trembling, inside I am a scared child. He joins me, and opens the door, gesturing me down the stairs with his chin. I descend and stand in the middle of the playroom, staring ahead of me, my peripheral vision is filled with things I don't want to see, yet what's in front of me isn't something I want to see either, a St Andrew's cross. The memory of the show form last night burns bright in my mind. Vince steps close behind me; I can feel his body heat through my clothing.
"Strip." He tells me, and I get undressed, still staring at the cross in the middle of the room. Once I'm naked, he urges me forward with gentle touches, pressing my chest against the soft leather of the cross. He binds my wrists, stretched wide and above my head, the cuffs are lined with something soft, and the bonds, whilst secure aren't overly tight, he repeats the process with my ankles, and steps around the cross, standing in front of me. He smiles softly and ties a piece of black fabric around my head, my vision obscured with solid nothingness, I'm completely at his mercy. I'm swallowing down panic, but my breathing speeds up, and despite my trying to stay calm, I can feel sweat building on my skin. I wait straining to hear what he's doing, trying to figure out what's coming next.
His fingers trail down my back, sending shivers along my spine; I'm confused by the gentleness of his touch, yet, over and over his fingers caress my skin. His fingers so soft against my back, my thighs, my ass, and my balls, I can barely feel his feather soft touches. This continues for so long, I'm lulled into a half nap, before I hear him step away.
"Sir?" It escapes me before I really think it through, the gentle touches were nice, I think I'd have been okay with being touched like that for duration of this trip, but now I suppose is when the pain starts. His hand connects with my ass, definitely not as hard as he can hit me, I know from experience, but unexpected all the same, the sudden flair of pain makes my breath catch in my throat.
"Shh, Pet." He tells me, and hits me again, my body jerks forward as his hand connects with my ass yet there is only a mild sting again, it's not what I was expecting. I wait for what seems like hours before his hand connects again and a low moan escapes me. I'm unsurprised to find my cock hardening, this whole thing is turning me on, his hand connects with my ass again, and I decide I'm not going to analyze this right now, I'm just going to go with it. The easy path is always less trouble with Vince. His hand continues to fall across my ass, never in a pattern, sometimes gentle, sometimes hard, but I'm waiting for something else, something more painful, yet it never comes.
Eventually, when my ass feels like its on fire, a lubed finger enters me, he preps me quickly and lands one more smack on my ass, before he enters me swiftly, his fingers clutching my hips, as he plunges in and out. I can't keep from voicing my desire; soft moans escape me without my consent. His cock plunges into me over and over, but it's too gentle, too slow. If I could, I'd try to take control, to make him move faster. I try to urge him to do so, but he doesn't, he keeps everything far too light and gentle for my liking. His hand wraps around my cock, stroking me in time with his thrusts into me, and before long, I come, my muscles tightening around Vince. I hear his grunt as he comes inside of me. I half expect to remain trapped here all day, for this just to be the start, but the blindfold is taken from my eyes and the restraints are undone quickly. I know there's confusion all over my face and he actually chuckles at me, his hand stroking my sweaty hair from my face.
"Pet, I'd like you to return down here tomorrow. Today was just a test to see if you could handle being restrained." He smiles at me, stroking my face once more. "You seemed to enjoy it so." He smiles at me, he looks truly happy with my performance. "Tomorrow, we'll really play, if you choose to return, but, as always it is your choice, Pet." I trail after him up the stairs, thinking about this choice that isn't really a choice at all. We both know that we'll be going back down there tomorrow.
He leaves me alone once more, vanishing into his office, and I go back to the white room, shower and change into shorts, heading out for a run. I wonder what the people in this nice, upper class neighbourhood think of me running along their picket-fenced streets. I almost expect the cops to show up, but I need to run, need to feel as though I still have some modicum of freedom. At this moment don't care who sees me, I need to think, need to be as far away from that house and Vince as I can. He played me today, showed me the side of myself that enjoys his control. His gentleness is always too much for me to handle, I expected pain instead I got a rather gentle spanking. The little stings showed me I could handle more, honestly, I found being spanked enjoyable and I hate admitting that Vince, my fucking boss, can make me enjoy something like that so much. He has full control over me right now, and there's a part of me that longs to find a way to take it back.
He ignores me all day, so I spend it reading in the garden, I finish Dracula and start Dante's Inferno, I'm not sure I like the translation Vince has though, I might try and find a better one on my own time. He calls me in for dinner, and we sit, eating at the table in the kitchen, silent save for Wagner playing over the stereo, somehow I'm unsurprised to find he has the entire The Valkyrie opera. He retreats to his room for the night and I go to the white room, staring up at the ceiling, trying and failing to find sleep.
The next morning, I shower and don't bother getting dressed, instead walk down stairs naked. He's in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee, reading the newspaper. I stand by the basement door, my head bowed, waiting for him to acknowledge my existence. Eventually, he walks over to me, I feel his eyes on me, if we're doing this, I want to get it over with, I want as long as possible to heal from whatever he does to me.
"It won't be gentle this time, Pet." He sounds almost wistful, his hand running through my hair.
"I know, Sir." I do know, I'm horribly aware that there will be pain, but I came here to let him play with me, and whilst he undoubtedly has been, it' not in the way he's wanted since day one. This action, this moment is me fulfilling my end of a bargain to save everyone I love, and using that bargain for my own advantage, this as much a reward for him, as it is a punishment for me. If I'm honest, I think that's why I want to go back down there. I want it to hurt. I promised myself I wouldn't use this agreement for my own ends, and now I have, twice. There needs to be repercussions for my actions, there needs to be a punishment. Vince is as much a tool for my martyrdom, as he is my success, I suppose. "I... Just... I don't wear a lot in the ring, Sir." He laughs softly and runs his hands down my arms, clutching my wrists firmly.
"You don't think I've not thought on that? You've the next few days off. Time to recover and heal, pet." His voice has taken on that awful bored edge. "No more talking, all I want from you are screams, Pet." He opens the door, but before he leads me down the stairs, he lets me go and tilts my chin up. "Your safe word, Pet?" I stare at him; I've no intention of saying it down there.
"Saint, Sir." I mutter, he nods and kisses my forehead.
"Good boy." He leads me down the stairs, I'm sure he is bruising my wrists at this point. He shoves me to the cross and I stumble slightly, catching myself against it. I'm facing the cross again as he straps me to it, this time the restraints are tight, with no chance to pull free. He places the collar around my neck tightly forcing me to focus on my breathing. Once more, I'm blindfolded but this time, there are no gentle touches, instead I feel the coolness of something metal against my skin. It runs along my arm, the cool metal causing gooseflesh to form in its wake. The metal begins trailing along the skin of my back, along to my hips, the flat of the blade gliding over my hipbone, then he twists it and the edge bites into my skin, a little hiss escapes my lips as the knife is dragged down slowly. I can feel the warm trickle of blood that the blade's leaving in its wake. Despite the pain, there's something oddly soothing about feeling my blood dribble from me. He runs a finger through the blood and begins marking my back with it. He cuts a little deeper on the other hip, dragging a soft cry from me, the pain more intense than I'd expected. I bite down on my lip, keeping the rest of the exclamations of pain to myself. The blood flowing from this wound feels more substantial, his fingers trail through it once more, and he adds more to whatever it is he's doing to my back, it feels like random spiral and squiggles, and maybe it is, but I can't help but think that Vince is probably playing with me, drawing a self-portrait or something equally ludicrous on my back in my own blood. A laugh escapes me at the thought of a bloody Vince face between my shoulder blades. "Pet?" He questions me, his voice softly concerned.
"Hmm?" I don't quite have it in me to answer him properly.
"Okay?" He murmurs against my shoulder, biting at my neck, and I nod, a small moan escaping me as his teeth worry at the mark he made so long ago. He places cuts along my shoulders, the feeling of my blood running down my back is very interesting, warm then rapidly cooling, the trickles of liquid strangely ticklish. A few times I can't help but the muffled cries as the knife sinks deeper, but overall, I pleased with my silence, it's a silly game to play with myself but I feel rather silly at that moment, my head feels oddly light, whilst my cock is oddly heavy, as though all the blood I have that isn't trickling over my skin is there. He reaches around my body and grabs my aching dick, squeezing it painfully. I grunt, my fingers clenching in mild pain. "You enjoying yourself, Pet?" I don't answer and he squeezes again.
"Hmm... Yesssss." I hiss, drawing the s out for no reason other than it makes me laugh, which I think is as confusing to Vince as it is to me. I shake my head and deep breath, trying to get myself under control, I feel oddly out of control, not just having had my control taken from me by his restraints but my mental control feels like it's slipping, sliding away like my blood.
"I won't let you come, till I hear you scream." I shake my head, and instantly regret it, it feels ever lighter now. He chuckles in my ear, and I feel a cock ring being fastened around me. I can't help but wonder how long I'm going to be able to hold out against him, how long will it be before he gets the screams he wants. I hear him step away, to the other side of the room, and then return. I wait for the knife to return to drawing on my skin, but it doesn't, instead there's a crack on the wall in front of me. He changed toys, and I'm to be whipped next. The whoosh of the whip moving through the air is all the warning I get before it connects with my back. I'd been prepared for something truly brutal, and whilst it's not pleasant, it's nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be. The next lash drives the air from my lungs, a stripe of fire lit up on my back. I hang my head forward, panting softly. His strikes fall with no pattern I can find, the strength, the target, it's all random and my mind is spinning, grunts and gasps of pain keep sneaking past my lips, and whilst my fire feels like liquid fire, my cock is still rigid, still looking for release.
Eventually, he steps closer and kisses the back of my head, then moves away once more, setting the whip down somewhere. He leaves me hanging from my restraints for what feels like hours, my mind is still screwy from pain and I think blood loss, I'm not sure, I'm just glad I'm not giggling anymore.
"Sir?"
"This will hurt, Pet, but we don't want you getting infected." The burn of whatever the liquid he pores over my back is indescribable, every welt and cut feels like fire, and a cream is torn from my throat. "There, there, was that so hard, Pet?" He moves to the front of the cross, his hand on my cheek. I'm grateful for the blindfold for two reasons, firstly, the smugness of his tone is enough to make me want to gut him, if I could see his face I'd be in prison and secondly, I don't want him to know that I'm blinking back tears. He gropes my ass, and a lube-slicked finger enters me, quickly joined by two others, gentle thorough prep a thing of the past seemingly. He steps back behind me and thrusts into me roughly, a cry catches in my throat, and he wraps one hand around my cock, the other is clamped on my hip, holding me with bruising strength. He jacks me in time with his hard, fast pumps. Before long he's filling me with his cum, his hands on my throat as he comes, not squeezing just resting there, letting me know that if he wanted to he could, I'm painfully close to screaming my safe word then, but he steps away from me. I want the ring off, I want nothing more in that moment than to come, but all he does is slide something in my ass. When it comes to life, a slightly crazed sounding giggle escapes me. He pats my ass, and I hear his feet retreat once more, but this time the sound of them on the stairs echo's in my ears. The basement door closes and I know I'm being left here restrained, hard and with no relief in sight. I don't know how long he leaves me there, it could be hours, it could be minutes, seconds even, my mind is hazy and strange images flicker through it. One stays with me, one I'm not sure isn't a memory rather than some kind of weird vision: Colt kneeling beside me, his hand moving through my hair, that's all damp and sweaty, telling me he loves me, that he'll protect me, that even if I try to stop him, he'll keep me safe.
When I finally hear the door open, I'm close to begging, desperation and the need for this to be over filling me.
"Sir." I sound so quiet and slightly crazy, it surprises me. I can feel his body heat behind me; his hand strokes my injured back gently.
"So close, aren't you, Pet?" He murmurs. "So very close to the edge." I'm not entirely certain which edge he means, the edge of coming, or the edge of madness, both feel dangerously close to me right then. He finally pulls the ring from my cock and strokes me once. My orgasm tears through me, leaving me hanging from the restraints, near sobbing for breath. He keeps stroking me; the pain of being touched after such an intense orgasm is almost too much.
"Please." I whimper, too far gone to be embarrassed by how needy I sound, I want him to stop, but he keeps going, until my body responds to him and he drags me to another orgasm. I barely feel the restraints being released; the last thing I really register is Vince gazing down at me as I collapse in his arms.
I wake up to find myself lying on my stomach in the white room. I try stretching and the muscles in my back protest.
"I'd take it easy, Pet." I turn and see Vince sitting on the bed beside me, typing away at a laptop. He glances at me, something odd in his eyes, his hand moves through my hair. "You did well, Pet. I'm proud of you." I nod vaguely and close my eyes, I can't deal with him right now, I can't deal with any of this right now. I lay there pretending to be asleep, waiting for pretence to become reality. "Good boy, Punk." He says after a long time of me pretending to be asleep. "I'm so proud of you." He kisses my hair, shifts on the bed, I hear the laptop being set down somewhere, and his fingers run through my hair. I lay there for at least an hour before he falls asleep, his hand cupping the back of my head.
Sorry for the long wait this chapter was a labor of love for us both! We really want to hear what you think! So please remember to review, we always appreciate everyone who does whether it is good, bad, or indifferent!
Rebellecherry- I hope you enjoyed there weekend together. Vince and Punk are an odd pair but for some reason I am adoring the pairing also!
littleone1389- Sorry to keep you on the dege of your seat for so long, this was a long chapter to write and to figure out everything we needed to get in here. I do believe at one point in the future Punk will find his peace with Colt. Using the agreement was never part of Punk's plan but even the noblest of intentions can backfire.
BrokenSpell77- I hope this lived up to expectations! I give all the credit for the conversation with Colt to lamentomori! She just captures the to so well! Yes a lot of the chapter had man pivotal moments and Punk struggling with his desire, his place in the agreement, his use of the agreement, and Vince's feelings are all very important! I am glad we make you think! Even more glad that you are enjoying the story!