Dominant Right

Author's Notes; Okay, for those who wonder if I can write anything that can be completely read on a flight from Sydney to Dallas, here it is. Almost a short, short incident of two men, one day and how they find each other. It's not as saccharine as it sounds, one of the men is a cold sonofabitch, the other, a convict. I hope you will find it as compelling as it reads quickly as I did writing it which I did slowly. PJ

It wasn’t a committee meeting, no, they all agreed, no committee….just some guys who had a mutual….well, what the hell was it? Not precisely a problem, not their problem but….

“Well, at least Prentice got the gun away from him….”

“You mean the one he found, that one….I know him, he would never, ever have just one gun any more than he’d have one scalpel…..”

“Shit...scalpels….how many do you suppose?”

“I don’t even want to think...but….the word ‘lots’ probably isn’t far off.”

“And I doubt if he’s sitting around playing mumbly peg with them….”

“Probably found some sort  of target and is throwing them….”

“On the back of the front door, that’s where he’d put waiting for someone to open it..and those scalpels? Uhm uh….whatever he’s throwing, it’s not scalpels…..”

The man came down the street, looked at a piece of paper, checked what he saw against a number on a door then walked on past two more homes, turned then walked up to the front door. Some would have been disturbed by the points of knives, at various angles, piercing the door not to mention the slice marks where, apparently, there had been knives, maybe a small ax...but something sharp. He rang the bell.

“Yeah?”

“Your Three o’clock appointment, Sir.”

A tip of something sharp popped through the wood.

“May I come in, Sir?”

“Sure, come in.” Another tip, this one slightly tipped up.

“Sir, if you’d hold your fire for a moment...Is the door unlocked?”
“Turn the knob and find out.”

“Thank You, Sir.”

He turned it, it opened, he stepped in, closed it, stood still holding a duffel bag over his shoulder. A knife slid by his ear into the door.

“Sir, you’re over correcting on the down stroke. If you’d permit me, I’ll show you how to get a truer aim and, to prove it, I’ll go back and stand against the door, spread my legs, aim for the top of the ‘V’, Sir.”

“Take off you pants now and you gotta deal.”

There was a pause while the man took off his much worn but warm bomber jacket, pulled off a long sleeved waffle top, pulled off his work books, undid the olive drab web belt, popped the top of the jeans, unzipped them, let the pair fall to the ground, picked them up, folded them, laid them on the floor then pushed down the black briefs, put them on top of the jeans then stood up. “Okay, Sir, may I come up?”

“Yes. Stand in front of me, you know how to do full brace?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He walked up the two steps to the tall, expressionless man standing by a table covered with assorted knives, blades, things that cut plus a portable sharpener.

“Now, how the fuck do you know how to teach me anything?”

“Sir, in the pen, I learned how to make shivs...that just led to larger throwing pieces, could make one out of anything.”

“Teach you how to suck cock?”

“When you’re first in, that’s one of the first things you better learn until you figure out who to suck off and who to make suck you. Takes a while but, Sir, you have a while.”

“Ended up as a shot caller didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question but it required an answer.

“Sir, I was. Last five years.”

“Anybody’s bitch?”

“Sir, never. I could suck better than that.”

The man almost cracked an expression.

“You see this arm? You see there’s only one? Which sonofabitch sent you? Those pricks at the hospital?”

“No Sir, this prick, that’s my parole officer. Said if I could land a job here, he’d cut my time on parole in half. If I stuck it for six months, he’d forget parole. Said you were a cold mutherfucker might kill me but...if I lasted, well, I’ve been around cold mutherfuckers for a long time, I lasted around there so it’s just up to you. Sir, I would be pleased to show you what I mean then go stand, spread legged, in front of the door, you can throw whichever one you want.”

“Show me.”

“Sir, you play golf?”

“Used to, shit head, how many one armed golfers you see?”

“Pick up a knife with a fairly substantial tang...okay, now, see how you’ve curled your thumb a bit up? Every golfer does that until someone says all you need to is straighten it out, point it down the shaft, gives your control, Sir.”

The man looked at the wooden knife handle, put his thumb straight. He was thinking.

“Know how to sharpen a blade so it’ll cut meat?”

“Yes, Sir, I do.”

“Come here, there’s a stone, here’s the knife, one I’ll toss at you, sharpen it so it’ll cut right through flesh.”

The man took his time, gently, carefully ran one side down the stone, held it up, repeated on the other side. “Sir, this isn’t a fast process.”

“I’m watching. Continue.”

Twenty minutes later he stepped back leaving the newly sharpened blade facing the door. The man picked it, turned it, one side then the other then looked at the quiet faced person, naked, who stood there back in the brace position.

“Your arm, inside up.”

They both watched as he picked up the newly honed steel angled it then drew it along the outstretched arm taking off the thinnest slice of skin, the tattoo he crossed gave up so little when he had passed it, the face on the inked clock looked fresher.

“Go down there stand, make ‘em hang down.”

He did as he was told. The man lifted the piece.

“Sir, if I may. Please notice that my nuts aren’t even, one on the right hangs a lot lower, it’s bigger, too. Your choice but when aiming, you might like to keep those differences in mind when you make your selection as to which you’d like to cut...the closest to.”

It was only a quick flip, the point just almost kissed the flesh, several pieces of hair fell to the floor.

“Good throwing, Sir. Care to take the small ax?”

“Come up here, suck my cock, don’t need to ask if you swallow do I?”

He started up the two steps toward the slit in the pants. “No, Sir, you don’t.”

There was the briefest of upturn on his lips. “Fact is, Sir, I’m something of a connoisseur of what a man tastes like. I’m looking forward to eating what you will feed me.” He knelt down, lowered the zipper, took one hand, gently removed the cock, licked the head and started the process of getting it stiff.

The man looked down, put a hand on the head of the person who was preparing to drain his balls and snapped it to one side.

“Sir, I cannot do what I know how to do with my head tilted. Please...if you wish to hurt me, then, that’s for later but you want your cock sucked, I want to suck it so, please, Sir, turn loose of my head.”

The man complied.

Getting hard was not going to be an easy task; He knew how to resist and would enjoy the contest knowing there was a real prize for both at the conclusion.

“What if I’d cut off your cock and balls? What then?”

The man pulled back. “Well, Sir, then I wouldn’t have to serve parole...”

“That the deal your P.O. offered you?”

“Yes Sir but may I continue?”

The man stood there, resisting knowing he could only do so for a period of time; The person sucking his cock did know what he was doing, was doing it and, damn, it felt good. The head moved back.

“Sir? May I feel your balls? I want to know how loaded they are? How many times I’ll need to drain you. Unless you jerked off today.” It was almost a question but would not be answered.

“Feel anything you want.”

The man opened his well worked hands, sorry they were calloused, that made it rough on the person whom he would feel. Couldn’t be helped. Like palpating a cat to see how many kittens he delicately isolated each nut, estimated the size, the potential volume then lowered his hands. “You have great sized nuts, Sir, be my pleasure to suck them dry.”

“...and my pleasure would be to see you do not...I was a surgeon, I know the body better than you ever could.”

Reluctantly the man pulled back again, held the hardening cock in one hand. “Sir, that’s true, but I know nuts, how to suck a man, sorry Sir but I am certain in surgery you never sucked a man.” Then he returned his mouth to where it wanted to be just then, slowly eating the prong of another man, slowly, patiently, feeling the veins and arteries plug, the hollow spaces in the cock begin to swell, the small pit of skin not circumcised pulled back as the fleshy cylinder it surrounded expanded, forcing it back, revealing the corona, that delicate indentation just behind the cock head, the place where teeth slowly sank in, the eating continued only, now, waiting for the first gentle spurt of the reality of the man, the suggestion that somewhere inside him, some place he could no longer control, a sliver of opal colored fluid was stirring, demanding, forcing the slender tubes that would carry it, mate with the fluid that added volume, taste….the man was starting to slightly double, his abdomen spasm as inside him, he lost the battle. He put his hands on either side of the head where he would be eaten, held it, tried one last time...but the gush betrayed him. Not quite falling, but only two arms wrapped around him, tapping at his ass knowing it would not be long….

On his knees the man could taste and, because the systems are joined at the throat, smell the stream as it swept down his tongue folded like a miner’s water flume carrying the gold to be found. He was done, he wanted more, his balls tried to run but a rough hand grabbed them, held them, pulled them. His eyes closed while he felt the sensation known only to men, that of lives going out to die in the belly of another man. He gasped. “Eat me you sonofabitch, chew on that fat dick….” He sat down suddenly, his knees up, his shoulders supported by his elbows while his now maddened eyes saw the skull of the man who was patiently, carefully, consuming him and would do so until there was nothing more, he was flat on the floor, his abdomen almost not able to press in, to find….more.

The man put undid the pants to make the occupants that he was involved in sucking more comfortable, He carefully, using only his hands stripped his victim still attached to his hose, reached up, found his nipples thought he heard a weak cry… “no…..no” but both knew the last connection was made, his dick was controlled by hardening dark circles held tightly by two fingers per side.

If there was a pause, the man with one arm didn’t notice, he was once again forced to find in himself more sperm, more fluid to carry it, give it for food to the one eating the live stuff within him….

There was but one last sensual act, to not do it is to not fully take a man; A body no longer pulling out semen slowly crawled up him, the panting lips his destination. Taking one forefinger, he pulled down a lip and spewed into the almost dead thing his life, his production that gave life to others sometimes now gave it back to the owner.

It was dark when they moved. One man sleeping, remembering holding a scalpel, parting flesh with one hand, preserving life with the other, wondering if he should be the one standing against the door, letting those things between  his legs be taken away? Would that end his parole? Would he get his arm back? Would the soft face, looking at him with open gray eyes bring him some replication of an arm gone? He didn’t mean to, he never had but...with his right arm he reached down and tried to hug the man who was holding his cum in his belly, the man who had brought back to him his own taste, his own life...He thought….

“I need you.”

“Sir, I’d hoped so...I’ve never tasted a man such as you and to only have one meal...Sir, lets get up, put me on your left and wait a few hours….” He looked at him, the man looked back.

Quietly. “Fuck your parole, I want you cuffed and put right here, on my left, where I can teach you how to join the right.”

“Yes Sir, on your left….I’ve always known a surgeon has a dominant arm and after too long, I want that arm to take me with you…”

“What’s your name?”

“Sir, Tangent Wilson, called ‘Tang’ like the handle of a knife, my Dad was a mathematician, just always liked that word, Tang.”
“Some men call their penis their tang….”

“Yes Sir, I know that. If it pleases you to think of me as Tang, your cock, then that is my privilege to be so called. You are Sir, not Doctor as I think calling you that name….would hurt you. Sir is the name of a man, it is for us, the other end of the tang, the blade...the blade in your right arm. We fit.”

“The blade...and the tang….” His eyes rolled up then down to first really look at what his left arm looked like. Tang put his right arm behind Sir, giving the impression of a figure with a right and left arm.

Sir finished removing his clothes, his good left arm, his tang only helping here and there. “It is pointless to ask if you were fucked in prison...”

“Yes Sir, it is, but….after the first, when I chose who to suck and then who I would let suck me, it was the same with my ass. Only a few and then...none.”

The two...or were there  two?...men moved quietly, bare feet moving them through the deep dusk of an interior toward...someplace. They were both tired. Needed to rest.

On the large, deep sofa, Sir made Tang lean back while he slid to the floor, his mouth opening, his eyes narrowing on that long piece of flesh, vibrant, living attached, the real left arm, the place that he could suck, would suck, would want to suck as he never had before but as his eyes closed and he felt the soft rounded flesh of a cock growing stiff, smiling almost, waiting for him to take back what he’d given up he knew the future again…

A hand went around his head, settled itself in the uncut hair…. “Sir, I’m ready, I want you to suck me like two hands, left and right, jerking off one cock, ours….

In the dark two hard men lay on a bed, drained, for now, Tang on the left as he always would be, Sir on the right unable to give up his dominance learned over a skillfully crafted career.

Tomorrow they would draw a figure of a man on the back of the door, a man with three bulls eyes at the crotch. Tomorrow he would cut off the cock on the door and Tang would now be paroled to him….In the dark they found themselves reaching with one arm for the other man. A complete man, all sides accounted for and, below, the syrup of life being produced so that the sucking could begin early…..