Previously
Josh walked into the night buzzing, aroused, his thoughts racing after finishing the first of his weekly dinners with Caine. He told himself he was projecting. Reading into things. And yet his body told a different story—hopeful, aching, alive with anticipation he didn’t dare name.
From the elevator lobby Caine watched him leave, his jaw set.
Josh was beautiful. Focused. Open in a way that was both compelling and dangerous.
Caine knew the line. Had built his life around never crossing it.
But as he turned back into the Club, the words echoed in his own mind, unbidden.
Good boy.
And for the first time in years, Caine Barrows wasn’t entirely sure he could keep himself in check.
2019 –Law School
Now into his 3-year law program, Josh’s sexual appetite was becoming less tentative and a somewhat kinkier. His encounter with Ridge was lifechanging (to say the least) and it opened the door to a new phase of sexual awakening. There were a handful more encounters with men like Ridge throughout college, some rewarding, some forgettable. But there was one thing he knew for sure: his desire to submit to authoritative men was real. Every depraved sexual act, every humiliation made him want it more.
He broadened his repertoire of apps, not knowing exactly what he was looking for, but he’d know it when he saw it. And he did. Late one night he came across the following post on a hookup app catering to BDSM and other kinks. The post read:
Committed couple, both top/doms, looking for a young, athletic, muscular sub to use, no twinks. Meet for coffee and if the vibe is right, we own you for a weekend in a hotel suite at our expense. Must state your limits up front; they will be respected. Apply only if you’re ready to submit.
It included a pic of an incredibly sexy couple, a handsome Black guy in his 50s and his partner who appeared to be a personal trainer by his physique, somewhat younger. And, against all odds, they were wearing speedos in the pic. It appeared to be a dom/sub relationship given the authoritative posture of the older one and the boyish posture of the blond, but the post said they were both doms. Both were sexy as hell and Josh could feel his heart pound in his chest.
Josh read the post and went after it like the competitive athlete he was. After composing and much editing he sent the following response, along with a pic of him in his Speedo, dripping wet, muscles flexed after a tough race. It read simply:
Sirs, I’m your boy. Tell me where and when to meet for coffee and let’s do this. I won’t disappoint you.
The coffee date exceeded all of their expectations. Malcolm, the older one and Adam, the younger one, were even more good looking in person. Malcolm was a prestigious attorney who towered over Josh, and Adam was a personal trainer whose tight athletic clothes unapologetically advertised his profession. They put off a daddy/boy vibe but insisted they were both doms who were both hungry for some “boyhole” (as they called it) to fuck. They were mesmerized by Josh’s pics and the fact he was a college athlete—and very much looked the part.
For Josh, if this played out, it was another dream come true. Two spectacularly hot men who wanted nothing more to use him for two days. They earnestly discussed Josh’s limits and were pleasantly surprised how much was on the table. No scars, scat, or blood pretty much seemed to cover it. Although his sexual experience was still somewhat limited, he made it clear he was game for anything and they’d respect his request to stop or slow down if asked.
Josh could tell Malcolm and Adam were wordlessly communicating and, finally Malcolm spoke, “Josh, we’re very interested and would like to move forward with you. You feel the same?”
Josh gulped silently and responded, “Yes, Sirs, I do.”
“Good, we thought so, but just wanted to make sure”, Malcolm explained. They agreed the weekend that work best for all of them was in just a few days so he continued. “We’ll reserve a suite at The Conrad, downtown. We’ll check in around 3 and get the suite ready; you should arrive by 5. There will be a key waiting for you at the desk. Let yourself in and put your things away. The only thing you’ll need is your toiletries and a couple of those sexy speedos you wear for racing. Don’t go into the bedroom until we get there; there’ll be surprises waiting for you there. There will be a rug in the corner of the living area where you’ll find a blindfold and leather handcuffs. Once you’ve thoroughly cleaned yourself out, wear your sexiest speedo, put on the blindfold, cuff your hands behind your back and kneel in the corner facing out. If you’re not there kneeling when we arrive, you’ll be punished. Is that understood?”
Josh couldn’t believe his ears. Another porn fantasy coming true. “Yes, sirs,” he responded with conviction.
The meeting seemed to be winding down, but Adam spoke up adding in almost a brotherly fashion, “Josh, this isn’t going to be easy. Once you’re there, you’re ours. You’ll be nothing but two holes for us to use however we want. Do you understand that? Now is your last chance to pull out.” If Josh had any doubt about Adam’s role as a dom, that comment ended it.
Josh didn’t hesitate, he was more sure than ever, “I’m all in, sirs!” he grinned.
“Good boy”, Malcolm smiled and they got up to leave.
There it was again--good boy. It sent shivers up and down Josh’s spine.
Expecting Josh to leave with them, he faked that he had coffee to finish and didn’t stand up to leave. If he did, they would’ve seen his raging hardon.
5PM Friday afternoon couldn’t come fast enough. Josh packed his three sexiest Speedos into a bag along with his toiletries (not forgetting his douching syringe) and headed to the hotel. The Conrad was very high end, and while he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to enjoy the hotel amenities, at least he knew Malcolm and Adam weren’t low life’s.
He chose the sluttiest speedo from his collection to be wearing when they arrived, a Hunk, extremely low cut with the Japanese flag strategically placed to show off his bulge. He’d never worn this suit to compete (it wouldn’t have stay on anyway), but it got plenty of stares at the beach. He looked at himself in the mirror and knew this was going to be a good weekend.
He found the towel in the corner, put on the blindfold, secured the leather handcuffs behind him with Velcro, knelt, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He used that time to reflect on what he hoped would be another fantasy made real. Here he knelt, blindfolded, hands secured behind his back in his sexiest speedo, waiting for two near-strangers to use him however they pleased. The very thought made his cock throb with desire. For what wouldn’t be the only time that weekend, he went into a sort-of trance anticipating the opportunity to serve; to use his body to provide a man—in this case men—the sexual pleasure they deserved. If he encountered any residual pleasure, sobeit, but his goal was to do what he was born to do: serve.
As he contemplated his good fortune, the kneeling was beginning to become uncomfortable but he sucked it up as simply one of the many discomforts he would have to endure or even try to enjoy.
The waiting continued. Not a sound. The anticipation built, almost unbearably. Josh’s cock revealed his eagerness as it stretched against its spandex prison.
Quietly, the silence was broken; he sensed activity outside the door, the click of the cardkey, the door creaking open. The sounds of Malcolm and Adam entering the room echoed in Josh’s ears and hardened his cock even more.
The wordless footsteps shuffled toward him, when Adam’s unmistakable voice said with an edge “Ready for your big weekend, faggot?”
Staring at the floor, Josh responded, “Yes, sirs”, conveying that he recognized their superiority.
He heard what only could’ve been the sounds of them shedding their clothes and his cock grew even harder, desperately trying to escape its confines.
He felt or heard, he couldn’t tell which, their presence close to him now. Heat, breathing, desire. And finally, the faint sensation of a cock grazing each of his cheeks.
“Josh”, he recognized Malcolm’s voice again but with a more paternal tone that Adam’s. “Your little cock is so cute in your sexy speedo”, as he rubbed Josh’s bulge with his foot.
Stumbling for the right response, any response, Josh answered, “Thank you, sir.”
“That wasn’t a compliment. Your cock is pathetic,” Adam growled and pushed his own foot into it with a force that stopped just shy of pain.
Josh found the degradation electrifying, and felt compelled to answer, “I’m sorry Sir.”
From the other side of him, Adam slid his hand down the back of the speedo and roughly inserted his wet middle finger into Josh’s hole and said, “Don’t worry, your cunt is what we want, anyway.”
That sent Josh into full slut mode and pushed his ass down into his finger, begging for more. “It’s yours’ sirs, all of it.”
“You’re damn right it is,” Adam added.
Josh was swirling. There was no way this was possible, but it was happening. And this was only the beginning.
As Adam fingered his hole from behind, Malcolm slapped his cock across his face repeatedly, to tantalize him, to punish him, and to convey the massive size Josh should expect. Josh couldn’t tell it was huge as it battered his face like a baseball bat.
“Open up, little man”, Malcolm finally demanded.
Pleased to be ordered to submit, Josh dropped his jaw open and welcomed the heavy weight of Malcolm on his tongue. He had trained himself to take men deep, and he quickly demonstrated to Malcolm he was worthy of his manhood. As Adam slid his wet finger deeper and deeper into his hole, Malcolm pushed his cock nearly all the way into little Josh’s throat.
“What a good mouth you have little man. Not many can take me so deep”, he said as the tip of his cock pressed against Josh’s throat.
Josh was desperate not to gag, as he longed to prove his worth to these authoritative men. Although still blindfolded, he looked up at Malcolm and nodded with watering eyes.
Adam, not wanting to be left behind, gloated, “Watch our bitch boy squirm” and jammed his finger knuckles deep in his rectum.
Josh surprised him by bottoming out on Adam’s finger and pivoting his hips to make sure he could feel every inch of the finger that was violating him. Smiling, Adam howled, “The little fucker loves it. He can’t wait to get his cunt worked over”.
“Our boy is swallowing my cock whole”, Malcolm added. “His mouth is so hot I’m not gonna’ last long like this. Let’s take him into the bedroom”, he smiled.
They lifted him by the shoulders and removed the wrist restraints and blindfold. “Take a good look at the men who own you”, Malcolm said as they hovered over him, proudly showcasing their manhood. Adam cupped their cocks and said, “These are all you need to think about for the next 48 hours, understand bitch?”
Josh, not able to contain the grin on his face, responded, “Yes! Sirs!”
“Good”, Malcolm responded, “we’re on the same page”, and carried him into the bedroom and threw Josh onto the bed. “Get his wrists again”, Malcolm told Adam who immediately put the restraints back on and secured each wrist to a bedpost. “And lose the Speedo. We all know what we’re here for.”
In seconds Josh was nude, spread eagle on the bed with his wrists secured to the bedposts. He wasn’t surprised they left his ankles free as he knew what they wanted. The two men with their massive erections circled him like their conquered prey. His heart pounded so aggressively he thought his chest would explode. It was, without questions, the single most erotic moment of his life.
Suddenly Malcolm stopped and asked, “You know why you’re here, boy, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir”.
“Then tell us”, Malcolm added. “Tell us….firsthand.”
“I’m here for you to fuck, Sirs. I’m just two holes for you to use however you want. For two days, Sirs.”
“How much do you think you can take?” Adam snarled.
“I promise to take whatever you give me.”
Josh’s cock was standing at full attention, and it could no longer be ignored. Adam stepped back and slapped it hard in one direction, asking “Like that?” and before Josh could answer he slapped it again and again, each time harder.
Josh, more in shock than in pain, looked them both in the eyes and whispered, “Thank you, sirs.”
“Get used to it, slut”, Adam added. “That’s why we’re here. The more you suffer the happier you make us. You understand that, right?”
“Explicitly, sir.”
“Good boy”, Malcolm said as he climbed between Josh’s legs and gently placed his ankles over his shoulders and lowered himself to his hole. Pulling his cheeks apart, he inspected the length of Josh’s ass, leaned in and tickled his taint with the tip of his tongue. “Oh my god!!” Josh cried, not expecting such exquisite pleasure. “Like that boy?” Malcolm asked. “Oh, thank you sir. Thank You!!” he cried again as Malcolm continued to work his tongue from his taint to his crack, and finally to the prize itself, his winking hole. He took one long swipe of it, pressed his tongue into it, pulled back and remarked, “This boy has a delicious hole. I may just stay down here and have him for dinner.”
“I’ll get him good and wet so you can fuck him to death”, Malcom said to Adam.
“That’s fine with me, Big Daddy”, Adam answered, revealing a new nickname for him.
Malcolm continued licking, sucking and fucking with his tongue. Every time Josh’s hole would stop feeling the sensation, he’d do it from another angle or another direction. Josh’s hole had never been so stimulated. So much so that he had no choice but to surrender, “Please Sirs, fuck my hole. Fuck your boy. Please I need it so badly. PLEASE Sirs.”
“Needy little cunt, isn’t he”, Adam laughed.
“ARGHHHH!!!” Josh cried, as Malcolm snaked his tongue all the way up his hole.
Pulling out, Malcolm said, “I’ve got him good and wet for you, Adam. Show him what you got.”
“Gladly”, Adam responded as he took Malcolm’s place between Josh’s legs, threw his legs over his shoulders, and plunged into him, full force, and fully penetrated.
“AAAHHH” Josh screamed has he was violated.
“Tell me you don’t love that swimmer-boy”, Adam taunted him as he ground even deeper into him.
Nearly unable to speak, Josh croaked, “Thank you sir. Please sir, again?”
Adam pulled out and thrust back in a second time with the same force. Josh cried out again, but slightly less loud than the first time.
Adam went to work. He was a pro and found Josh’s hot spot on his second or third thrust into him. Josh tightened up and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. “I think I found it”, Adam laughed to Malcolm. Then he continued to work the spot without mercy.
Malcolm, watching closely, while stroking Josh’s torso and pinching his nipples offered a stern warning, “Don’t you DARE fucking cum, boy. You only cum when I say you cum. Is that understood?”
Josh wanted nothing more than to comply, than to please these two men, but he didn’t know if it was possible. Adam’s cock was massaging his prostate creating feelings he never before knew existed. Nearly in tears, he wept, “I’ll try sir”, and forced himself to go into a near trance. He disassociated himself from the experience to prevent himself from cumming. It was the only way out. It wouldn’t be the last time this weekend he did that. In fact, for most of the weekend, he became nothing more than a hole, or in some cases two holes, whose only purpose was to provide pleasure. And, strangely, that was exactly as he’d hoped.
“I’m getting close Big Daddy”, Adam cried.
“Let’s do this together”, Malcolm answered, and straddled Josh so he could face fuck him while Adam pistoned him.
Malcolm knew Adam well enough to take his cue from him. He modulated his thrusts into Josh’s throat to time it so they came together.
Josh felt it coming…both of them tensed up and at precisely the same moment the two of them gushed into his respective holes. Hot, scalding ropes of cum as far up him as he’d ever felt, and blasts of cum as far down his throat as well. He had completely surrendered. He was nothing but a vessel for their use and the very thought intoxicated him.
They each dropped their weight directly on him leaving him covered with two sweaty men who he’d singularly brought to orgasm. His throat was raw and his rectum ached; he was the happiest man in the world.
Malcolm and Adam remained motionless, allowing Josh to contemplate the moment. He struggled, but not for the reason you’d think. He endured the throat fucking and near-violent assault on his ass and knew he could take more. What made him afraid was how turned-on he was by the disrespect, the humiliation, the degradation of allowing himself to be used. He’d masturbated endlessly to fantasies like this, but now they were actually happening, his heart pounded and his head nearly exploded with lust.
And so it continued for 48 non-stop hours. Malcolm and Adam fucked every orifice of Josh from every conceivable angle, in front of bell boys, poolside where they paraded him around in the skimpiest speedo imaginable, in the middle of the night, and topped it off with a grueling double-penetration that stretched Josh to his limit. Josh surrendered, his body nothing more than a vessel for Malcolm’s and Adam’s use. And, disturbingly, found it immensely satisfying.
Josh spent the following days in a whirlpool soothing his wrecked hole and was still eliminating cum from his hole three days later. What troubled him wasn’t what he’d been through. What scared him to death was how much he enjoyed it. Being called a slut. A fag. A whore. A worthless cunt. And then tenderly cared for and loved on. What the fuck was wrong with him? In many ways it was the most blissful 48 hours of his life. The lack of freedom was shockingly liberating. No decisions, no angst, no regret. Just be the sex pig that was demanded of him. Relax, enjoy, and don’t look back.
He was deep into law school and knew he wouldn’t have the stamina for many repeats of this weekend. But he knew down deep, that in any long term relationship he would be the sub, the order-taker, the giver. And with the right person, he’d be the happiest man on the earth.
2021 - Stone & Ash, Week 6
Caine knew as he waited for Josh to arrive at the Club’s private entrance that tonight was a calculated risk.
He told himself, again, that mentorship carried exposure. That if anything personal were to develop between Josh and himself, it had to happen organically. He couldn’t make it happen. Yet he had dressed with more care than usual, chosen the charcoal jacket Jason once teased him about (“the one that makes men stand straighter when you speak”), and had choreographed the evening down to the minute.
He secretly hoped Josh would notice.
Instead of waiting in the dining room as he had every Thursday, Caine messaged Josh to have him wait for him in the Club’s main lobby. When Josh appeared, jacket slung over one shoulder, eyes already scanning the sumptuous space with open curiosity, Caine felt the familiar pull—equal parts pride and danger.
“Good timing mate,” Caine said, smiling as he clasped Josh’s shoulder in greeting. Not a hug. Never a hug. Something firmer, anchoring. “Before we eat, I want to show you around a bit.”
Josh’s brows lifted. “The Club?”
“All of it,” he said with a bit of mystery. “It’s my home, along with a number of other gentlemen. Consider it… context.”
They moved deeper into the building, past discreet doors and corridors that all seemed designed to ask a question without answering it. The gym revealed itself gradually—first the low hum of equipment, then the wide, open floor flooded with warm light.
Josh stopped short, immediately noting every piece of equipment known to mankind…and then some. The Keyholders Club took fitness seriously, very seriously, he thought to himself.
It wasn’t just the machines—custom, immaculate, intimidating in their precision. The men using the machines were hard not to notice. And admire.
Three pairings, all of whom he’d seen before at the club, occupied the space, arranged in their own quiet orbit. Each consisted of an older, mature jock, broad-shouldered, confident, and unhurried who seemed to be coaching his younger counterpart, also athletic, closer to Josh’s age. Hands hovered at backs, corrected posture with brief, proprietary touches. Instructions were murmured, not barked, but they carried weight. The relationships appeared to be firm, but warm, like a kind-hearted personal trainer. He even seemed to vaguely recognize a pair from Stone & Ash, but the firm had over 400 partners so it was impossible to know everyone.
Strangely, there was something unmistakable about the younger men. Each of them wore workout gear that made Josh look twice. It wasn’t so much that he found their appearance desirable, which he did. It was more that they each wore the type of revealing workout gear he’d always wanted to, but never had the nerve.
No one stared. No one hid. They wore it like a badge of honor.
Josh swallowed and imagined he and Caine in this same gym, working out, Josh wearing a tight tank and 2” shorts possibly with the jock strap peeking out from the hem of his shorts.
Caine watched him watch the pairs from the corner of his eye. “Discipline,” he said lightly. “Looks different when it’s earned.”
Josh nodded, though his gaze lingered. “They… train together?”
“Among other things,” Caine replied, with a slightly suggestive tone. Then, after a pause, “But training comes first.”
They continued, the rhythm of the space settling into Josh’s bones—the measured repetitions, the clear authority exchanged between partners. By the time they reached the far end of the floor, Josh’s posture had shifted, shoulders back, stride unconsciously matching Caine’s.
“Caine.”
The voice came from behind them—smooth, amused, unmistakably confident.
Jason Cross approached with easy familiarity, wiping his hands on a towel slung low at his hips. He wore fitted training pants and a tank top that shamelessly showcased the physique of a personal trainer. Although close to Caine’s age, his workout gear rivaled the workout apparel of the younger guys…stringer stretched across his chest and workout shorts that accentuating his ample bulge. It was beginning to feel a lot like a gay gym.
Josh registered all of it at once: the casual strength, the years of discipline, the way Jason looked at Caine not with deference but with shared understanding.
“Jason,” Caine said, his tone warming. “Perfect timing.”
Jason’s gaze slid to Josh, slow and assessing, without apology. “You must be the swimmer.”
Josh cleared his throat. “I…uh…yes. Josh.”
“Thought so.” Jason smiled, giving away that he knew more than he was saying. “I understand you’re becoming Caine’s right-hand man.”
Josh felt Caine’s shift beside him—subtle, electric.
“He’s learning quickly,” Caine responded. “Stepping up very nicely. Fulfilling every expectation” he finished, leaving Josh wondering exactly what they had discussed. Caine promptly introduced Jason, his personal trainer, apparent close friend, and another resident at the Club.
Jason gestured for them to follow. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”
Observing Caine and Jason, Josh flashed back, almost cinematically, to Malcolm and Adam. Confident, manly, alpha…and how they owned him. He shook his head to get the image out of his mind and concentrate on the tour.
They moved through the gym at a deliberate pace. Jason explained equipment with precision, occasionally stepping close to demonstrate form, his hand hovering just shy of Josh’s back. Each correction was framed as instruction, but the subtext was unmistakable: awareness, attention, control.
“You can tell a lot about a man by how he takes feedback,” Jason said at one point, eyes flicking briefly to Caine. “Some resist. Some adapt.” He paused and pivoted, “the best lean into it. Even crave it.”
Josh’s voice came out quieter. “And some… want to get it right.”
Caine smiled like a father whose son just made him proud. “Exactly.”
The pool was the final stop.
The air shifted as they entered, cooler, sharper. Two pairs cut through the water in clean, efficient lines. When they finished their sets, all four men climbed out, water tracing paths over their muscled bodies, tiny speedos leaving very little to the imagination. They didn’t rush to cover themselves, in fact, they seemed to be enjoying being on display. The younger ones waited, attentively, as their mentors spoke quietly to them, with an occasional caress or playful push of skin against skin.
Josh felt memory stir again, unbidden, insistent. The discipline. The surrender. The way silence itself could feel like a command. Mr. Barrows in his speedo, coaching young Josh and Jake. The moment Josh realized what he was destined for.
And it hit him for the second time tonight…they all looked vaguely familiar…the Club? The law firm? Somewhere else?
Caine got Josh’s attention and remarked. “Remember Josh, swimming demands obedience,” he said. “You don’t fight the water. You submit to it—or it punishes you.”
Josh nodded, pulse quickening. “I always swam better when I stopped thinking and just… followed what you told me.”
Caine agreed and added, “And that’s a transferable skill.”
The invitation to dinner came easily, as if it had always been part of the plan.
“We were just heading to eat,” Caine said to Jason. “Join us.”
Jason didn’t hesitate, “I thought you’d never ask.”
After a quick change of clothes, Jason joined them. The dining room felt different now though—charged, conversational lines bending subtly around him. Caine’s presence seemed to be doubled. Now there were two of them Josh desired to please. With each course, the conversation edged closer to its real subject—the expectations for Josh—tightening like a knot drawn slowly, intentionally.
“Fitness,” Jason said, cutting into his steak, “is about accountability. Someone watching. Correcting. Expecting results.”
Caine nodded. “Potential doesn’t mean much without structure. Without demands. Without expectations.”
Josh listened, heat pooling low in his abdomen as images from the weekend long ago threaded through the present—being watched, evaluated, claimed. It had taught him how intoxicating it felt to be owned by men who knew exactly what they wanted from him. And demanded it.
“And looking fit, like an athlete,” Jason added casually, “isn’t vanity. It’s signaling. It tells the world you’re willing to work. To be shaped.”
Josh’s fork paused midair.
“Shaped by the right hands,” Caine said softly.
Josh’s and Caine’s eyes met across the table.
Josh wondered, not for the first time that evening, what it would feel like to stand between them. To follow their instructions. To earn their approval.
Jason set his fork down and leaned back, eyes never leaving Josh. “Tell me something,” he said, tone casual but unmistakably directive. “When you train—really train—do you prefer instructions spelled out, or do you do better when you make it up as you go along?”
Josh felt heat rise to his neck. He chose his words carefully. “I do better when expectations are clear. Demanded.” He knew where they were going with this conversation and was all in. He leaned into it to let them know he was taking the bait.
Caine smiled into his wine glass, “Sometimes making demands can be unpleasant. If they’re not met, they require correction…even consequence.”
Jason nodded. “Exactly. Most men want to be told they’re doing well. A few want to be told explicitly—even harshly—when they’re not. That’s the type I find more rewarding to coach. Do you agree Caine?”
“Absolutely,” he responded quickly. “In athletics, in the law, and even in life.”
Josh’s pulse thudded. He thought of long nights, of learning his worth by how well he responded to orders, commands, even ultimatums. “I learn better when I’m told, clearly and directly, how to improve, how to be better,” he paused and then bravely added, “how to serve better” in almost a whisper, looking down at his plate.
Caine set his glass down. “Yes, I’ve seen that in you. But I want to see more. I expect to see more. At the office, in the gym, in the pool…who knows where else?”
By this time every ounce of blood in his Josh’s body had rushed to his cock. The thinly disguised conversation was every bit as erotic as his encounters with Ridge or the weekend with Malcolm and Adam. It was becoming apparent his only purpose in life would be to serve Caine, and possibly even Jason.
The next course arrived, but Josh barely noticed the food.
Jason continued, cutting his steak with unhurried precision. “Looking the part matters. When a man walks into a room and you can tell he’s been worked—trained—it changes how people treat him.”
“How they look at him,” Caine added. “How seriously they take him.”
“And” Jason said, glancing briefly at Caine, “who feels entitled to give him direction.”
Josh swallowed. Memories flickered—standing still while others decided what came next; the strange calm of not choosing. “I always thought discipline showed respect,” he said.
“It does,” Caine replied. “Especially when it’s offered.”
Jason’s mouth curved. “Offered—and accepted.” He tilted his head. “Some men resist being shaped. Others lean into it. They understand that surrendering control can sharpen everything else.”
Josh’s fork hovered, he swallowed and dared to ask, “And if someone wants that?”
Caine met his eyes steadily. “Then he should choose his mentors carefully.”
A silence settled—thick, expectant. There was no lack of subtlety now.
The point had been made, loud and clear, so Jason pivoted. “Training sessions here aren’t casual. You follow instructions. When you’re corrected, you comply. You comply because you know you’ll be a better person for it.”
Josh nodded once. “I believe that’s my nature.”
“Yes, it is,” Caine said. “It always has been.”
Jason’s gaze flicked between them. “Good. Because when someone commits to this environment,” referring to Caine, himself, and the room of men, “they don’t just look better. They behave better. They learn when to push—and when to yield.”
Again, Josh felt the words land. He remembered kneeling in a different room, long ago, discovering the power of yielding to men who took what they wanted. He wondered—recklessly—what it would be like to do that again, this time with structure, with purpose.
When dinner ended, Caine rose first. “We’ll continue this conversation,” he said, resting a hand briefly at the small of Josh’s back. “I think you understand everything that’s been said tonight and that you’ll live up to my, and Jason’s….expectations.”
Jason’s gaze lingered as Josh gathered his coat. “The Keyholders Club has a way of revealing things.”
Josh stepped out into the night buzzing with possibility—keenly aware of what had transpired. Josh’s mentorship wasn’t limited to the office or even personal development. It now included rigorous physical training, in and out of the pool, plus a deeper, yet undefined, relationship with Caine. And it appeared the mysterious Jason, who seemed every bit as “Alpha” as Caine, would play a role.
--To be continued--
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