The Vow and the Betrayal
Over the next few years, Nick and Daniel slipped into a rhythm that felt as natural—and as charged—as breathing. By day they were a quietly formidable team at Bishop & King: Daniel steered the agency to record-breaking growth, while Nick, working from just behind his shoulder, became the unspoken No. 3 in the firm’s hierarchy. Only Claire Bishop—heir to Daniel’s retired founding partner—sat nominally above him, her status owed more to lineage than to the results she posted. Nathan stayed on as well, carving respectable, if not headline-grabbing, wins of his own.
By night their private dynamic deepened. Daniel’s imagination kept expanding Nick’s thresholds—testing, edging, and rewarding him until surrender sounded like praise. The Play Room punishments grew more demanding yet always ended with Nick gasping for more. Nick came to crave the delicious blur where pain tipped into ecstasy, a lesson first branded into him the night with Nathan….the intersection of pain and pleasure.
There was one nagging thing that haunted Nick a bit. It was Daniel’s highly confidential project, presumably agency-related, that pulled him out of town for weekends along with his consultant, Patrick, whom Nick had never met. Daniel was notably muted about the details, only letting on that it was extremely sensitive in nature, and therefore virtually no one in the agency was aware. Unfortunately, that applied to Nick as well.
One evening, after an exquisitely intimate dinner downtown, Daniel’s voice dropped to velvet as they stepped through the front door.
“Shower, then come to the living room,” he murmured. “I’ll be waiting.”
When Nick re-entered—still damp, pulse already pounding—Daniel had placed the armless bergère in the center of the room. He sat lounging back, nude, leisurely stroking himself to half-mast. Without a word he spread his thighs and pointed to the floor.
“Kneel,” he said, quiet but unmistakable. “Get me hard—good and wet. There’s something we need to discuss.”
A scene like this made Nick insanely hard. The mystery, the authoritative commands, the sexual domination. The order alone made Nick throb. He dropped, took Daniel deep, and let saliva coat every inch. Daniel guided the pace with gentle pressure on Nick’s skull until he hovered just shy of climax.
Nick could never get enough of Daniel’s cock. If Daniel had ordered Nick to stay on his knees and suck him until dawn, Nick would’ve felt privileged. He had memorized every vein, every slit, and every crevasse on his Master’s throbbing cock. And the taste when he came…he routinely daydreamed about the flavor and intensity of Daniel exploding in his mouth.
But Daniel wasn’t content with just a blow job. “That’s enough, boy.” He lifted Nick by the shoulders, gaze molten. “You know what comes next.”
Of course Nick did. They had used this very chair once before—an unforgettable night that had rewritten the course of their lives. Now that Daniel was well lubed, Nick slid down him easily, but it was still thrilling after all these years. Nick knew just how far to fall until Daniel’s thickness filled his insides. Nick looked Daniel straight in the eyes. The moment was magic.
“Go deeper”, Daniel ordered.
Nick thought he had reached his limit, but using his feet on the floor as leverage, he pushed down further, and then groaned with ecstasy.
“Even further”, Daniel demanded.
Nick did his best, pushing down another fraction of an inch until Daniel was deeper than he could ever recall.
“Remember last time we were like this?” Daniel asked. “Remember what I told you?”
“Yes, Sir,” Nick breathed, riding that first slow wave. Daniel didn’t order it, but he couldn’t help but grind himself onto his Master’s cock. “But I’ll never tire of hearing it.”
Daniel’s eyes glinted. “I said this position—me inside you, directing you, owning you while you relish being owned…” as he glanced down at Nick’s caged cock…”is the purest metaphor for us.” His gaze flicked to Nick’s locked cock, weeping against its cage. “Total control, total devotion.”
Nick’s voice cracked with reverence. “I remember, and it’s still perfect, sir.”
“Good,” Daniel whispered. He framed Nick’s face in both hands, the intimacy suddenly tender. “Because with this metaphor, at this very moment, I want to ask you something that matters more than anything we’ve built.”
Daniel took a long breath and thrust his hips even further into Nick. Nick froze, breath suspended.
“I love you,” Daniel said. “I want all of this—to be ours together. Marry me, Nicholas. Be my husband and make me the happiest man alive.”
Tears blurred Nick’s vision. He sank down, taking Daniel impossibly deeper, wrapped his arms around him, and whispered, “Sir, you already have—but yes. A thousand times yes.”
Daniel had been planning for this moment for a long time. He wanted Nick impaled on his cock to emphasize his physical ownership over him, as well as their emotional bond. He wanted to be deeper in Nick than he ever had so when Nick remembered this moment, he’d remember the physical sensation as well as the emotional one.
“I love you, Nick”, Daniel repeated. Seizing Nick’s face with his hands, he added, “Grind down—HARD—on your Daddy’s cock and show me how much you love me back.” Nick didn’t think it was possible to take Daniel any deeper than he currently was, but he found a way, now feeling the tip of Daniel’s cock somewhere near his stomach. Suddenly his body began to tremble in a way he’d never before experienced. Shooting up from deep inside him was a wave of pleasure that exceeded even his most intense orgasm. “OH….MY…GOD…” Nick screamed, not knowing how to even experience this level of ecstasy. His body shook as if he were having a seizure, albeit indescribably pleasurable. He lurched toward Daniel and embraced him with every muscle in his body, as if to share the experience with him.
It worked.
Both sweating profusely, Daniel lost control as well, seizing Nick as hard as Nick had gripped him, and shot rope after rope after rope into Nick. They both were lost to the moment, aware only of the other muscled body they were grasping. The world, the house, the room evaporated around them. There was nothing in the world for either of them at that moment, other than each other.
***
Keeping the wedding low-profile proved impossible. The Dallas Morning News splashed a photo of the wedding party across the society page: Daniel and Nick in sharply tailored tuxedos, Logan—the legendary NFL quarterback and Daniel’s former lover—as Daniel’s best man, and Nathan at Nick’s side as his. The four cut a dashing foursome in their formalwear and the caption read:
“SEE-AND-BE-SEEN WEDDING OF THE SEASON: Agency titan Daniel King weds rising star Nicholas Courser in an intimate ceremony at the Nasher. Best men Logan Shields (still the Metroplex’s most eligible man) and Nathan Carter (Bishop & King’s resident heartthrob) proved the view was nearly as dazzling as the vows.”
For their honeymoon, Daniel chose the exclusive resort precisely because of its anonymity: a secluded, gay, clothing-optional enclave where lingering gazes were not frowned upon but encouraged, with every intention of continuing to stretch Nick’s boundaries. From the moment they checked in, he stripped Nick down to nothing but the polished steel of his cage and a hotel wristband. Nick padded across marble floors and manicured paths, often entirely bare, the device announcing—without a word—that he belonged to someone who had earned the right to keep him. Daniel, in the white speedo he favored for its ruthless minimalism, guided him by touch alone: a hand to the back of Nick’s neck, fingers brushing a shoulder, each gesture drawing approving, envious stares.
The pool became their stage. Daniel lounged triumphantly, half-smiling at the inevitable glances and longing whispers, while Nick stood sentinel at his side until summoned to apply sunscreen, fetch a towel, or present himself for quiet inspection. Every order was measured cruelty: banal enough to seem casual, pointed enough to remind Nick who held the reins. And Nick—caged, but incandescent with pride—met the curiosity of other guests without flinching. Once, Daniel noticed two striking men across the pool admiring Nick. Without hesitating, he sent Nick over to comment only that “my husband observed you admiring me”, but nothing more. Given the nature of the resort, the overture wasn’t scandalous, but it was difficult to ignore. Daniel watched from across the pool as the conversation continued until Nick brazenly dropped to his knees and knelt between them. He alternately lowered himself on one, then the other, continuing for some time until the sounds from across the pool were the unmistakable groans of release. When he finished satisfying the two handsome strangers, Nick brushed himself off as if just completing a routine task, returned to Daniel to the cheers of the other pool-goers, cementing his reputation as Daniel’s slut. Daniel swelled with pride while Nick’s humiliation became heat radiating through the afternoon like sun on stone.
Back at their cottage, Daniel exploited the terrace that overlooked the resort’s gardens. He arranged Nick on a chaise wearing the briefest of thongs in full view of strolling resort guests intentionally taunting them to imagine what laid beneath the sheer fabric of the thong. Sometimes Daniel joined him, damp from a late swim, easing onto the lounger so Nick could kneel between his legs for an appetizer before dinner.
What happened after dark behind closed doors was left unseen, but consistent with Daniel’s audacious behavior, he let the door ajar enough to allow the unmistakable sounds carry far enough to keep onlookers dreaming.
By week’s end, the resort staff greeted them with a subtle deference usually reserved for royalty. Daniel’s dominance had become an open secret; Nick’s caged devotion, a whispered legend. They left the terrace at dawn on their final morning, fingers intertwined, certain that the world outside would drag them back to convention. But the memory of sun-baked stone beneath Nick’s knees and Daniel’s calm, implacable voice would follow them home like embers—ready to fuel whatever fires they chose to light next.
Once they returned to Dallas, the two—now loving husbands—returned to daily routine surprisingly quickly. They were surrounded by friends and colleagues who shared their happiness, they found the office stayed the course during their absence, and they wore their new marital status like fine jewelry. Everything felt invincible.
Until it didn’t.
***
Nick’s meteoric rise inside Bishop & King had set the Dallas ad scene buzzing. When Daniel promoted him to Chief Strategy Officer and drew him into the agency’s tight inner circle, every rival firm took notice—none more aggressively than Miller-Shanks, Bishop King’s most formidable competitor. Its CEO, Howard Simmons, initiated contact with a genial email and an invitation for coffee “whenever you’re free.”
Flattered and a little reckless, Nick accepted without telling Daniel. It’s only networking, he reasoned. For months it was harmless—Ivy-League pleasantries over cortados, two or three times a year—until Howard’s motives sharpened.
Bishop King’s succession plan was an open secret: Daniel was the lion, Claire Bishop next in line, and Nick after her if he stayed put. Miller-Shanks needed its own heir, and Howard wanted to choose him or her before the board did.
The ambush arrived on a quiet Tuesday morning. Howard slid a leather folder across a café table: an obscene raise, executive equity, and a clause crowning Nick CEO on a firm date. Nick’s pulse thrummed; he’d walked into a negotiation he hadn’t even known existed.
He needed to decide what he wanted before he dragged it into Daniel’s world. The title, the money, the throne—impossible to ignore. Yet Bishop & King felt like home; Daniel felt like everything.
One evening, after a long, but productive day, Nick lay in Daniel’s arms in their routine, before-sleep chat about the day.
“Hey,” Nick offered, somewhat out of the blue, there’s something I need to tell you.
Daniel knew immediately that this wasn’t business-as-usual, although it seemed oddly business-related. “What’s that little man?” he asked, as nonchalantly as possible.
Nick went on to explain, somewhat haltingly, about the casual cups of coffee he’d had over the past several months with Howard Simmons, the CEO of Miller-Shanks. Realizing what those meetings had wrought, he tried, and not particularly well, to make them seem innocent.
Daniel, knowing the next shoe was about to drop, lowered his voice and said, “Go on…”
“Howard wants me in as his number two—guaranteed CEO when he retires.”
Daniel, for all his wisdom and experience, didn’t see this coming, and had to summon every bit of restraint not to throw Nick out of his arms. He said nothing except, “Well, are you going to accept it?”
“I DON’T KNOW,” Nick exploded. “I need you to tell me what to do.”
Feeling ultimately betrayed, Daniel began to lose his cool as well. “Too late for that little man. You obviously led him on…showed interest…kept him on the hook. Can I ask, how long have you two been…chatting?”
Nick had to think about that…he hadn’t considered it a “thing”. “Maybe about 18 months”, he whispered, realizing the impact of what he’d done.
Daniel eased him off, rose, and paced—a cold, controlled fury. “Eighteen months of secret lattes with our fiercest competitor.” He stopped, eyes wet but blazing. “I trusted you. I. Feel. So. Betrayed.” He choked out.
Nick tried to explain but the situation escalated until Nick felt he only had one card left to play…”Ok,” he said. “Talk about being betrayed! What about your ‘highly confidential project’ with Patrick that pulls you out of town to who-knows-where so many weekends?”
Daniel quickly interrupted, “So that’s what this is about?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think? You won’t say a word, you disappear for weekends with some guy named Patrick, who I’ve never even met!”
“I’ll tell you about the weekends, and about Patrick, and when I tell you what it is, you’ll understand why I’ve told no one, not even you.” He continued, “I participate in a sport that has an element of danger. So much so—in fact—the board has forbidden me to participate, given my role in the agency.”
Nick’s eyes widened as Daniel continued, “I own a car and race competitively in the World Racing League. They’re two-day races, anywhere from 8-24 hours and are grueling. My ‘weekends away’ are those races.” He stopped waiting for a reaction from Nick, which never came, so he continued.
“…and Patrick is my Crew Chief. He manages all the logistics, keeps the car in racing condition, manages the pit crew, basically does anything I need done.”
Nick looked in his lap, feeling like a complete shit, but Daniel continued, “And I emphatically didn’t tell you for two reasons. First, I didn’t want you to be in possession of information that was contrary to the board’s direction. I decided, alone, to ignore their directive, and I didn’t want that on you.”
“Secondly, and more important, although nothing bad is going to happen, I knew you’d worry every time I left for one of my races, and I didn’t want to saddle you with that.”
Nick’s mind was racing. He began thinking this conversation thinking it was about him, and now he learns about Daniel’s—arguably dangerous—hobby. He didn’t know where to start. So he started at the beginning.
“Sir”, he began through quickly forming tears, “I’m so sorry I let the thing with Howard get so far. I guess I was just flattered and got…carried away. Of course I don’t want to move to that agency. You’ve been the best boss and mentor a man could want. Please forgive me..” as he said choking back the sobs.
Daniel understood that it was his naivety that brought this on, and while still a bit betrayed, decided to be the bigger man. Daniel held him while he sobbed for what seemed like an eternity. “I’m so sorry..” he kept wailing.
Daniel drew him close until Nick’s sobs subsided. They spoke of engines, pit stops, danger, and Daniel’s need for speed. Understanding replaced suspicion, though guilt still gnawed at Nick’s ribs.
As they finally began to relax, Daniel smilingly asked him…”You haven’t told me if you’re going to accept the role.”
“Of course not!” Nick responded. “I’ll let Howard know in the morning. It’ll be behind us.”
“Good.” Daniel’s thumb traced Nick’s lower lip, claiming. “But actions carry consequences.” He leaned in, breath hot against Nick’s ear. “Tomorrow night you’ll kneel in the Play Room and wait. I’m going to remind you—slowly, thoroughly—whose future, whose body, whose loyalty belongs to me. And, sweetheart”—his tone dipped, half-promise, half-threat—“you’ll feel that reminder every time you sit for the rest of the week.”
A tremor of dread and desire rippled through Nick. “Yes, Sir,” he breathed. “I deserve it.”
Daniel smiled—a predator’s calm assurance. “Oh, you do. And you will.”
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