I clasp hands with Dane outside the nondescript steel door. “Okay, Dane. Let’s go over the rules. You don’t speak to anyone but me. You are not responsible to anyone but me. Stay at my heel and keep your eyes on my back. Don’t let go of my hand, and if you have any kind of problem at all, squeeze my fingers. Got all that?” I ask the boy with a perfect memory.
Tonight, we’re merely passing through the halls, not pausing to take in the scenery or become a part of someone else’s fantasy. This is a convenient pit stop. That said, there’s no denying the added heat between us; entering a club as dominant and submissive under any circumstances is bound to churn the blood.
I pull Dane into my body, drawing his mouth to mine with my gloved hand. My tongue finds his, and we tangle and twist until I feel him relax his stiff shoulders. Gliding my thumb across his lower lip, I look straight into those warm, brown eyes and say, “Bottom line, Dane, you’re mine.”
Holy hell, the rush I get when the boy whimpers in response!
I step past Dane and pull him into place behind me before knocking three times. The man who answers was a boy last time I was here. Obviously, he’s continued his training, because he snaps to attention and greets me with the utmost respect. “Master Marcus, is that really you?”
“Yes, Eli. You’re looking well.”
“Thank you, Sir, as are you. How may I serve you today?” He’s careful to keep his eyeballs where they belong—on me—and for that, I am grateful. Calling him out would spoil the mood.
“I need a playroom. Anything on the second floor is fine.”
“Absolutely, Sir. Let me get those packages for you, and please allow me to get you a key.”
Eli steps aside, and we enter the reception area. This place has all the warmth of the clothing store, but at least it makes sense here. The Toolshed’s charm, so to speak, is in the severity of the décor and the utilitarian furniture and equipment. It’s not a place to bring a first date, but if you want to get right down to business, you’ll find everything you need. Right now, that works for me.
“Here you are, Sir. Room twelve is all yours.”
“Thank you, Eli. Is Stephen still here?”
“Great. Have him put it on my tab.”
Eli nods. “Of course.”
He shuffles away, and I lead Dane over to the staircase. I tuck him against the wall behind me, steering him clear of the naked, collared boy on all fours sucking off a leather-clad man leaning against the banister.
“Are you with me, Dane?” I need to hear his voice.
“Do you need to talk to me about the color of the sun?” I ask, as we trudge up the stairs.
“No, Master. Thank you.”
At the landing, I give him an extra little tug to speed him past the first room, where a trussed-up sub is being flogged in plain view of the open door. Either the boy is an exhibitionist, or he is in big trouble because it is all out there on display. Another day, I might’ve at least paused to look, but there can’t possibly be anything here to hold a candle to Dane.
We’re practically jogging by the time I reach room twelve and fit the long tubular key into the lock. With a satisfying click, the tumblers align and the door opens, revealing your everyday, basic bondage den. I close and lock the door behind us while Dane takes in his surroundings.
I step in front of him, deliberately blocking his view, and start unbuttoning my shirt. “Dane, do you trust me?”
“I’d ask that you keep that in the forefront of your mind right now. Remind us both of your safeword, please.”
Pulling off my shirt, I turn and drape it over some metal rack with so many accessories, I’d need the instruction manual just to figure out which end is up. “I want you to take off your clothes and hand them to me.”
The room offers an infinity of kinky options, but so many are still off limits. My brain pushes through different permutations, plotting what I want to do with Dane and calculating which equipment will serve me best.
Meanwhile, Dane strips down with his usual fluidity, revealing an eager cock that matches my own. I set his clothes down next to my shirt, and by the time I turn back, he’s already posed and entirely delicious.
High overhead, dangling from a pulley is a rope with a set of cuffs. I leave Dane in place and crank the gear on the wall until the rope drops to shoulder height. Dane’s eyes are all over me as I walk back and take hold of the first cuff. “Wrist.”
Without faltering, Dane offers his left wrist and waits patiently while I clip him in.
“Wrist.” The second one costs him a deep breath and a little more time, but the right hand is presented as well.
I know Dane won’t be shackled long, but I still take every precaution to make sure his blood is circulating. I work quickly and without speaking, letting Dane get used to the restriction and the stretch as the pulley draws his hands over his head. His feet adjust naturally to the re-centering of gravity. His eyes are focused straight ahead, his feet slightly spread, and best of all, his erection hasn’t lost any of its vigor.
Maybe I’m not objective, but I can’t remember ever seeing anything quite as beautiful as Dane elegantly extended, taut as a cello bow, and comfortable in his bondage.
“How do you feel, Dane?”
He hisses as my palm meets his belly, his flesh pebbling in a telltale patch of goosebumps.
“I’m okay, Master.”
“Just okay, Dane?” I run a fingernail across one of his tight nipples, and he flexes away with a groan. “You look more than okay to me, boy. You look downright aroused.”
My thumb sweeps along the valley where thigh meets groin, and Dane’s cock does a twitchy little dance for me. That’s it, boy. Let your body beg for it.
That was too easy. I give his thigh a squeeze and push him a little. “Yes, Master, what?”
His eyes flash at me. Dane’s a hot mess, but he’s in a healthy head space. “Yes, Master,” he says, forcing out, “I’m aroused.”
Well, fuck me six ways to Sunday. Now, my cock is doing the goddamn cha-cha.
I step into his side, stabilizing his torso while lightly brushing my fingertips down his chest and back. He shivers and strains against the cuffs.
“Were you teasing your Master earlier, Dane?”
“No, Master. Just wanted . . . ungh . . . to please . . . you.”
One palm comes to a halt just below his navel, the other glides over the perfect contours of his ass.
“Hmm, pleasing . . . teasing . . .” I circle his cock with my finger, and he mewls and closes his eyes, “such a fine line, isn’t it?”
Kneading his ass with my right hand, I don’t quite touch where he wants me to in front. “It’s maddening, isn’t it, Dane? To want . . . so . . . badly . . .” A finger grazes his crack, and he groans.
“Yes, Master, yes.”
I’m using all my Master superpowers not to bust a nut.
“What a good, trusting boy you are, all tied up and helpless.”
The only body part Dane can move is his head, and he’s thrashing around and sucking down urgent, choppy breaths.
“I can do anything I want to you right now, can’t I, Dane?”
Stabilizing him with one hand low on his belly, I give him an open-handed swat. Dane grunts, jolts, finds his equilibrium again—through it all, his erection not only grows but leaks with desire.
I need more of those grunts.
“Is this the perfect ass,” swat, grunt “you hid from me,” swat , grunt “in those tight black slacks?” Swat. Grunt, pant, pant.
I hold his gaze until he forces out his answer. “Yes, Master.” The two words seem to wipe out what’s left of his ability to speak.
“Were you imagining this while you were teasing me, Dane?” Swat “Were you hoping I would spank you later?”
His face reddens, and his chin drops to his chest. “Yes, Master.” It’s more plea than answer.
“Look at me, boy!”
Dane turns a desperate face in my direction. I wrap one arm around his back and yank his hip into my stomach. With the other, I palm him abruptly, and he cries out.
“Tell me who you belong to!”
I’ve literally got him by the balls when he replies. “You, Master. I’m yours!”
“Don’t you forget it, Dane.” I stroke him forcefully with the heel of my hand, and his mouth drops open with complete abandon. “You are mine!”
“Yours, Master, ungghh, please, please, please!”
“Yes, Dane. The answer is yes!”
Holding his breath, Dane contracts every muscle in his body, tensing into a tight coil of raw energy until the pressure in his groin becomes more than he can bear. I ease up on the force but not the rhythm, stroking him through his explosive orgasm and holding him upright when he flops like a rag doll against his restraints.
Dane catches his breath and lifts his head. My hand slows, more of a tender caress than a purposeful tug. Pure, unadulterated bliss greets me in his happy glow. I’m sure my answering grin is equally as goofy, if not worse.
“You can blame your spanking on the blue shirt.”
He throws his head back and laughs. I would do anything to bottle this Dane—blissed out, loosened up, and so happy, I’m not even sure he remembers he’s cuffed.
“You were spectacular, Dane. Do you know what you just did?”
“Apparently, I teased you mercilessly.”
Dane waits a tick, considering his answer. Judging me to be in an accepting mood, I suppose, he says, “It would seem to me, Master, you’re not exactly trying to discourage the activity.”
“One more swat for the road, Mr. Cheeky.” I deliver the promised swat with zero bite, and I also fail to contradict his statement. What would be the point? We’d both know I was lying. “Let’s get you down from there so you can make it up to me.”
“Nothing would please me more, Master,” he says as I release his wrists and massage the tension from his shoulders.
“You know, Dane,” I start, releasing my button and zipper and pulling his beautiful mouth to my cock, “I believe you.”
I believe Mr. Cheeky, too. Look at that- you guys ask for a scene in a club, and BAM! There it is. That's the magic of reviewing...or damn good predicting! *wink*