Chapter 9: Party
Adam Strickland sat in his study turning over in his mind the invitation he had received from Mark Emerson. He enjoyed playing with other doms in his circle. There was a pleasurable excitement to drinking and chatting with his friends while their boys were on hand, eager to service cocks and present their asses should the doms need to fuck them. But he didn’t entirely trust Mark. He suspected that Mark attracted boys with a dark, nihilistic need. Was that reciprocal? Adam supposed so. Mark’s boy Phillip had been with him for quite a while now and he seemed willing enough. But a part of Adam that he couldn’t quite acknowledge was attracted to the limitless depths that Mark could drive his sub down to.
Adam hated indecision. He made up his mind. He texted Owen with a date and time.
As soon as Owen arrived at his apartment, Adam took him into the kitchen and Owen knew from experience that it was time for a discussion about his limits. The kitchen was a neutral space where they talked about the exchange of power.
“Owen, you I’ve told you already that I play with other men and their subs. You’ve seen me discipline another master’s boy.” Adam held back from telling Owen that this had been Mark Emerson’s sub.
Owen nodded. He had seen a sadistic side to Adam then. He wasn’t sure how to place that.
“I’m a member of a very discrete group of men who like to play together. Sometimes we meet in each other’s houses for drinks before we go on to a club for more specialized play. You have pleased me very much, Owen, and I’d like to show you off to other men. We can take it gradually, but I’d like you to come with me as my boy to a party. We will agree limits first and you can see how it feels. We’ll just go to the preliminary session to start with.”
Owen was conflicted. He was aroused by the idea of being Adam’s boy in public, but he was afraid of the newness of the prospect.
“What would I have to do?”
“Whatever I tell you. And whatever other men tell you as well. You would be expected to do what you’re told and without any objections. But we we’ll discuss your limits, of course. I would like you to get on your knees and suck other men’s cocks. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, I guess so.” He had already done that once at Adam’s command when Adam had brought in another sub, the beautiful Nicky Rostov.
“That’s not enough, Owen. You need to accept this fully. I would enjoy seeing you submit to other men for me, but it must be your decision.” Adam liked the idea of displaying his sexy boy, but more than that, he wanted to deepen Owen’s submission by having him take other men’s cocks. He knew that Owen needed reassurance and an incentive at the same time.
“You will only be required to suck dick.” He smiled and pushed his hand down Owen’s pants to grope his ass lasciviously. “This? This is mine.”
Adam’s hand on his ass convinced Owen. He sensed that Adam wanted to move him into a new experience of domination and the satisfaction of pleasing Adam—always in his mind—was mingling with the excitement of the new scene. So many of Owen’s sexual fantasies until he met Adam had been the frustrating ones of pornographic scenes that he felt he didn’t have the courage to realise in real life. But from the moment that Adam had closed his hand in an irresistible grip round Owen’s wrist on their first meeting, he had known that Adam had the power to make those imagined scenes real. He was willing to go wherever Adam wanted to take him.
Before they left Adam pushed Owen down on all fours, pulled down his pants and administered a spanking. “Just to get you in the right frame of mind, boy. And besides, your ass looks so good a nice shade of red.” He noticed that Owen was wearing the underwear he had bought for him. It was a good sign.
Adam drove them to a large house in an upmarket suburb of the city. A man dressed only in tight leather shorts and a collar let them in. He smiled warmly at Owen and bowed his head to Adam. Adam took a seat and motioned to Owen to kneel at his side. The collared man said politely to Adam, “Sir, your boots? May I?”
Adam glanced inquiringly over at a man in leather chaps and harness, evidently the boy’s master. “Be my guest, Adam,” the leatherman said. “Robbie—make sure you do a good job on Mr Strickland’s boots.”
The boy, Robbie, dropped to his hands and knees, busily cleaning Adam’s boots with his tongue. For the next thirty minutes he would circulate round the group with his face pressed to any boot that would accept his attentions. Adam ordered Owen to strip down to his jock.
Owen’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him. Three more men stood around chatting and drinking cocktails. One held a chain attached to the collar of a naked boy kneeling at his feet. The boy was only about 20—blond, slim and very handsome. He stared at Owen dismissively. His master’s hand was playing idly with his hair. The hand dropped to caress his boy’s face and the sub hungrily sucked his fingers into his mouth.
Owen shifted his glance and saw another sub, around his own age, waiting on all fours with a ball gag in his mouth. He recognized with a shock the man Adam had disciplined a few weeks ago. He was wearing a jock with a riding crop tucked into the side. The sub did not meet his eye.
As he took in his surroundings, Owen recognized with surprise someone else coming in from another room. He had occasionally seen Mark Emerson at the law firm where he worked as a paralegal. Mr Emerson had joined the firm a few months ago but their paths had rarely crossed. It was hard to take in. A room where dominant men were chatting to each other while their subs attended to them was a fantasy that clashed with Owen’s everyday working world.
Owen leaned against Adam’s thigh for reassurance as he adjusted to his surroundings. The scene was exciting—the men were good-looking and the sexual flow of the evening was only just beginning.
Mark Emerson came over to look down at Owen appraisingly.
“So this is your new boy, Adam. Not a bad piece. I see his ass takes color well.”
“He’s learning,” Adam said, “this is his first time in public.”
“He seems a little reluctant. Perhaps you need to step up his training.”
Owen bristled, more at the criticism of Adam than of himself. He blurted out, “I am here, you know.”
He felt a sharp tug on his collar. “Quiet, Owen,” Adam said.
Mr Emerson smirked at Adam’s use of Owen’s name. “Your boy” (he emphasised the word) “seems very ill-disciplined. Would you like him muzzled? I have one ready.”
Owen shrank against Adam’s leg. He felt him tense with annoyance. Adam said, “The boy is new to the scene. He doesn’t need a gag.”
“Well, whatever you think,” Mark Emerson said dismissively. “I’m sure anyone here would be happy to correct him for you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Perhaps we can put that mouth to better use. May I have the pleasure?” He sank down into an armchair with his legs spread.
Adam slapped Owen’s ass to propel him across to Mark. “Hands and knees, boy. I want you to suck Mr Emerson.” It was understood that the subs were at the disposal of all the men. Adam suppressed his dislike of Mark.
Owen crawled over. Mr Emerson had his cock out and was looking at him impatiently. His cock wasn’t as long as Adam’s but it was very thick. Mr Emerson grabbed Owen’s collar and hauled him onto his dick. Adam watched them. Despite his feelings about Mark, there was something arousing about the way his boy was submitting obediently to another man.
As Owen sucked on Mark’s cock, Adam’s own dick got hard. He felt something touch his knee and looked down to see that the blond sub, Sandro, had moved between his legs and was looking up at him respectfully. He nodded and unfastened his pants to give the boy access. Sandro was a highly skilled cocksucker. Instantly he took Adam deep into his mouth, swallowing him right down and massaging the head with his throat muscles. Adam closed his eyes to enjoy the expert service his dick was receiving.
He was suddenly jerked out of the scene by the sound of violent choking. Mark Emerson had his hands clamped round Owen’s head and his cock was shoved deep into his throat. He was holding Owen on his cock. Tears were trickling from Owen’s screwed-up eyes and his face was a deep red color as he struggled for breath. Owen struggled helplessly, beginning to panic, and then started to go limp.
Adam jumped to his feet, pushing Sandro backwards, and moved threateningly towards Mark Emerson. Someone—Sandro’s master—saw what was going on. “Mark!” he said, sharply. There was a strict rule among the men that they would respect each other’s authority over their subs. There were to be no confrontations among the men.
Mark smirked again and kicked Owen away from him.
“I see the boy needs more training, Adam. We’ll have to work on that gag reflex.”
Adam glared at him. Mark turned dismissively towards his own boy.
“Gentlemen, I think we’re all ready. If your cocks are hard, this whore of mine is at your disposal. You’ll find his ass and mouth very willing and talented.” Adam ignored him, refusing to rise to the obvious comparison with Owen. He was about to go to Owen when Robbie’s master intervened to restore the equilibrium of the scene.
“I need a little more service. May I try your boy, Adam? I’d love to see how a new mouth feels on my dick.”
“Go ahead, Jacob.” Adam had known Jacob a long time. He trusted him absolutely and respected his long and intimate relationship with his own boy.
Jacob took Owen gently by the collar and drew him to his knees as he took a seat. He could see that the boy was still flushed and gasping from the brutal throat-fuck. He understood that Owen would need time to recover himself and he clicked his fingers to summon his own boy, now at work on a master’s boots across the room. Robbie scuttled over on hands and knees.
His master put a finger under his head and raised his chin. “What a lucky boy you are, Robbie, with all that leather to worship. I can see I’ve been very indulgent with you, allowing you to service all these gentlemen.”
“Thank you, Sir, you’re very good to me.”
Owen was watching them now and saw a look of deep trust and affection pass between them. The boy was older than he had first realised, at least Adam’s age. He wondered how long they had been with each other. They were both wearing leather. The boy’s tight-fitting shorts and the man’s chaps and jockstrap seemed to make them fit together.
Jacob pulled Robbie’s head back by the hair and said, “You’ve been enjoying yourself far too much. I think you need to spend some time under your master’s feet to think about your proper place.”
“Yes, Sir, of course, Sir.” Robbie instantly crouched down onto knees and elbows and received his master’s boot planted firmly on his ass.
With his leg raised up on his boy, Jacob removed his leather jock and presented Owen with his task. “You, boy. Owen, is it? Get to work on my balls.” He knew Owen’s throat would be sore and he wanted to be pleasured to the best of the boy’s ability. Owen gratefully took the man’s balls in his mouth. It felt strange, but he was adapting to the scene. There was something hot and edgy about servicing a stranger like this. It made the sex seem more intense, not knowing the owner of the cock and balls. Jacob leaned back, sighing contentedly. He pushed his ass forward and ordered Owen to get his face in it.
Owen had never eaten ass before, although he loved the way Adam tongue penetrated him to open him up for a fucking. He gingerly licked round the man’s hole. It smelled clean but with an unmistakable man-scent. He put his mouth against the crack and sucked a little. He felt a hand at the back of his head and he pushed his tongue in. It felt good to be servicing a man like this. He used his tongue carefully, listening and adjusting his strokes to the sounds of pleasure coming from above. He forgot the soreness of his throat. Kneeling between Adam’s thighs was one of Owen’s favorite places to be, and he felt that Adam was giving him permission to feel what it was like with a stranger.
Jacob’s cock was getting hard from Owen’s attention. He drew Owen’s head up to it, and allowed the boy to suck him at his own pace. He thanked Adam. “Your boy has a hot mouth. Nice ass, too. Shame it’s off the table today—I’d like to sink my dick in there.” The way he said it felt like a compliment to Owen.
Across the room Mark Emerson was moving things on. He took off Phillip’s gag and pulled him by the collar onto a low coffee table. He pushed down on Phillip’s back to make him present his ass and mouth. Then he addressed the room: “The boy is ready for use. He’ll take as much cock as you want to give him, but he can be lazy. Feel free to use the whip if you think he needs motivation.” Mark pulled the crop out from the boy’s jock and demonstrated with two slashes across the buttocks. Phillip pushed his ass back to receive them and the hard cocks that were to follow. He wanted to be used and he willing gave up his ass and mouth to Master’s friends.
Phillip knew that Master was allowing him this reward for confessing that he had shown the slightest interest in another man. He was disappointed that Sandro, the blond sub, had been chosen to provide the centrepiece of the entertainment at the club later that evening. He hoped that Master would take him afterwards in the way he needed to be used in a hard, remorseless fuck. Other men were more careful; they had learned to be good doms, to check in with their subs, to moderate the pace of a scene. But Master fucked him without any of these consideration. He took what he wanted, but it gave Phillip what he needed.
Sandro’s master moved casually in front of him. He sent his own boy into the kitchen to fix more cocktails and stood chatting to Master who was standing behind Phillip. Phillip’s face was very close the prominent bulge in the man’s pants. A hand smacked his face. “What are you waiting for, boy?”
Phillip carefully took down the zipper with his teeth. A thick cock, already hardening, bobbed up and he eagerly opened his mouth for it. Then his ass was fingered roughly and he heard Master’s voice: “Open that hole, boy, show me what you want.” Phillip pushed his ass back excitedly. Master so rarely considered what he might want.
Master’s cock was waiting for him and he felt the familiar pain as it was shoved into him with no preparation. Master was so thick. It was always difficult to accommodate him. But this was what Philip wanted. He took the two dicks eagerly. The men thrust into his ass and mouth without paying any attention to his gags or suppressed whimpers. He could hear them chatting to each other above him, and the clink of ice in their glasses.
Phillip wanted to be taken harder but he was not permitted to ask. The men were holding back—later in the evening they would satisfy themselves with a more spectacular whipping and fucking. He had heard them talking about a slow impalement on a ten-inch dildo while the boy took two men beating him at the same time. He wished it could be him.
Another cock had replaced Master’s. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the anonymous fuck but he was pretty sure the new cock belonged to Mr Strickland. He felt the cock enter him slowly and deliberately and then pause at his prostate, grinding in his passage. To Phillip’s surprise his own cock began to swell in his jock. Master noticed it, of course, and Phillip felt the sting of the crop across his shoulders as Master said, “You’d better not come, you little fucking whore.”
Mark Emerson never let any sign of independence in his subs go unpunished. He ripped off the boy’s jock, pulled his balls back through his legs and fitted a humbler to them. The bar behind his thighs would restrict any movement. Phillip accepted it happily. He enjoyed the physical presence of Master’s authority over him Mr Strickland had moved on and he felt a new cock begin to separate his buttocks and pass on into his ass. He pushed back and the humbler tightened his balls with an exciting jolt of pain.
The men had been using the subs for nearly an hour and it was time to move on. Most of them were saving their loads for the club. Mark Emerson looked briefly at Phillip. He considered leaving him chained and naked, but he freed his balls and told him he could have the privilege of clearing up: “I expect the place clean and your ass in the air when I return.”
As they left Mark Emerson’s house, Adam resisted the encouragement of the other men to bring his new boy to the club. Owen had attracted some favorable attention and a number of the men had remarked that they hoped his ass would be available soon.
But Adam’s mood had changed. He put Owen in his car and asked him his address. It didn’t occur to him to wonder why he didn’t already know where Owen lived.
Owen was disappointed. “Aren’t we going back to yours, Sir?”
“We are not. You disobeyed me Owen. You were told not to answer back, but you did.” Owen had forgotten about that. It seemed such a small thing. He looked crestfallen, but Adam was not moved by him. In truth, Adam felt he hadn’t handled things well himself. He felt he’d spent a lot of time on Owen and he wanted to share him. Lending a boy out to other men was something he enjoyed on occasion. Owen would have to learn to handle the rough throat-fucking dealt out by the likes of Mark Emerson. But Adam had been wound up by the scene, and not in a good way.
Owen sat quietly in the passenger seat of Adam’s car. He wanted to talk about the scene—to ask about the relationship between the leather dom and sub, Jacob and Robbie, and to find out what kind of activities the group was going on to. But Adam seemed withdrawn and distracted. He briefly asked if Owen was OK physically, and then lapsed into silence again. Owen watched his hands on the steering wheel and imagined them moving over his body. He longed to touch Adam. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t know how.
Adam dropped Owen off at his house, but his mood did not lift. There was something else he needed. He made a phone call and drove back to the city center to an elegant row house in one of the older quarters.
Adam loved pain. He liked to use it. To paint with it on the canvass of a sub’s body, to play with it in different tones and shades. And sometimes—very rarely—he needed it himself. On these occasions he visited Patrick, a man he had known and learned from for over twenty years. Ten years older than Adam, Patrick had originally drawn him into BDSM and taught him a great deal.
Patrick answered the door and took Adam up the stairs to give him what he had come for. Patrick’s playroom was minimalist, refined after many years to its essence. It was in the attic of the house, but where Adam’s playroom was kept dark, Patrick allowed the daylight to stream through two skylights. A metal ring hung from the old dark wooden beams. A small cabinet contained a few essential pieces of equipment. A single chair stood in one corner. Patrick sat down and waited while Adam undressed and moved to the center of the room to stand beneath the ring.
Patrick gestured towards the cabinet where he had laid out leather cuffs, a coil of rope and a blindfold, but Adam shook his head. These things were unnecessary. Patrick moved over to him kissed him deeply. As their mouths locked, he ran his hands from Adam’s buttocks up his back and round to his chest, and in the same movement he lifted Adam’s arms up so that his fingers closed on the ring. Adam would not need to be restrained.
Patrick gently pushed Adam’s head down to open up his back. Then he took a single-tail whip. The warm-up was brief. Patrick was quickly into his rhythm, laying the whip in a precise pattern across Adam’s back. Adam accepted the pain and breathed it out, letting its sharp caress fill his senses. The mixed emotions from the earlier scene at Mark Emerson’s house began to leave him. As waves of sensation flowed through him he grew calmer.
Patrick watched him. The summer evening sun fell in a certain slant of light across Adam’s body. The sunlight enhanced the stripes from the lashes and glanced off the sweat that began to gather on his chest and back. Patrick had known Adam a long time, and during that time he had played with many men, but he always found Adam’s body the most beautiful to mark. Adam’s cock was hard, but they wouldn’t fuck. Flogging Adam was a sensory experience for Patrick.
Patrick whipped Adam for about twenty minutes, not varying the strokes much. Adam was not here to be played with. His body was soon decorated with distinct red marks. When Patrick decided it was enough, he put down the whip and went over to Adam.
“You know the price.”
Adam did know and he always resisted paying it. He held Patrick’s gaze. Patrick smiled and looped the whip round Adam’s neck, pulling him down. Adam felt Patrick’s strength—not just physical but also in his will. The whipping had not been an act of domination but a gift of pain shared between them. Now, however, the hierarchy had to be asserted. Slowly Adam sank to his knees and brushed Patrick’s boot with his lips with the very slightest of touches. Then it was over. Patrick invited Owen to shower, and rubbed antiseptic cream into the angry welts on his back where the skin was broken.
“Stay for dinner? Colin’s cooking.” Patrick was married to Colin, a University professor, and as far as Adam could see their relationship was completely vanilla.
“Yes, thanks, if Colin’s OK with that.” Colin was an excellent cook. Adam had to concede superiority in that department.
They sat chatting for a while until Colin arrived home. Balding and slightly overweight, he seemed the last person that Patrick would marry, but as far as Adam could see they were completely content. They were both in their fifties and had married as soon it was legal.
“Hello, babe.” Patrick jumped up and kissed his husband sensuously, “Adam’s here—OK if he stays for dinner?”
“Sure—if you’ve prepped the vegetables like I told you.”
Patrick said guiltily, “Well, you know, I was kind of occupied.”
“Oh really? Well, we can’t disappoint Adam. You can take me to Vetri tomorrow night. You’re paying.”
“Yes, babe. I’m sorry.” Patrick looked contrite. Adam could never quite understand this. Sexually, Patrick was the most dominant man he had ever known. Even Adam would do anything he said. But at home Colin ran the show. Sometimes Adam thought that Patrick had gone so far into BDSM that a life of domestic contentment must seem strange and exotic to him.
Colin came over to Adam and greeted him with a warm hug. On such occasions Adam had a glimpse of how Colin’s easy, comfortable physicality must have its attractions. Colin disappeared into the kitchen, leaving them to talk.
Patrick opened a bottle of wine and poured three glasses, taking one of them to Colin in the kitchen. Then he looked quizzically at Adam and said, “Did you just come to get whipped?”
Adam sighed. Patrick knew him very well. “Yes and no,” he said. “I needed you to help me clear my mind in both ways.”
“Is it this new boy of yours?”
“It’s partly him. But he’s no trouble.”
“Are you sure?”
“He has a crush on me. But it’s not serious. There’s a boyfriend—a realtor or something.” Adam wasn’t exactly sure of the state of Owen’s relationship.
“Have you met him?”
“The boyfriend? No, of course not—why should I?” It occurred to Adam that he didn’t in fact know whether or not Owen was still seeing his boyfriend, Andy. He just assumed so. In fact Owen and Andy had parted ways amicably two weeks ago.
Patrick sighed. “There are real people in the world, Adam. Not everyone is your plaything.”
“I know. I’ve been very cautious with the boy. He’s very inexperienced and it would be easy to break him.” He paused. “I took him to a cocktail party at Mark Emerson’s earlier this evening.”
“Oh did you? And how did that go?”
“OK, I guess. Emerson was his usual difficult self. I don’t know why they tolerate him.”
Patrick looked at him quizzically. He very rarely attended these events any longer himself but he knew about the rivalry between Adam and Mark.
Adam continued: “He was too rough with the boy. He knew it was his first time but he tried to break him.” His anger rose at the memory. “He shoved his fucking cock down the boy’s throat and choked him without any preparation. He could have seriously hurt him ... I should have put a stop to it at once.”
Patrick laid a hand on his arm. “Be careful, Adam. You’re not unbreakable yourself. And you didn’t break Seth, despite what you think.”
Adam tensed. He had known Patrick a long time, and there were people and things in Adam’s past that only Patrick understood. “I’m OK. I’ve gotten over it.”
“If you say so. But you know, Adam, you can have another relationship. You can let go of the past. I’m happy to punish you, but don’t keep trying to punish yourself. If you like this boy, take him.”
Adam was uncharacteristically lost for an answer. He was no longer sure what he had wanted from this visit to Patrick—he had not expected to talk about the past. He tried to deflect the conversation.
“I’m still training him. He has a lot to learn.”
“What did you do with him after the party?”
“I took him home. It might have been too much for him.”
“For him? Or for you?”
Adam was silent. Patrick could always get under his skin. But then Colin was calling them to dinner. The kitchen was full of the noise and smells of cooking and Colin was pushing a glass of red wine into his hand. They sat down at the table and Colin served them helpings of pasta and salad. The conversation changed to politics and then to a film they had all seen, and Adam’s mood lifted. He watched the easy interactions between Patrick and Colin, the way they helped each other to the food and wine, and the little smiles and touches they exchanged. He drank too much and left his car there. As he walked home, fuelled with the wine and the warmth of Colin and Patrick’s household, he resolved to give Owen more, to be a better master for him.