Chapter Twenty-Two

Initiation

Alastair and I had another appointment in the Bordello at Maverick Molly’s on Friday. To say I was looking forward to it would be a massive understatement. He’d insisted on easing me gently into the world of kink, which I did understand and appreciate. But now that Beautiful Nigel had turned up, and Alastair had admitted that he and Nigel had got up to some pretty kinky shit, I wanted to experience something more than a little schoolboy play with a wooden ruler and over-the-lap spankings, as much as I did love them.

And since Alastair had started showing me very specific porn videos featuring a range of perverted things that he liked to do, to get my reaction, he must think that I was ready for it. I hoped I was ready, because I sure as hell wanted it, especially after watching all the delicious and mind-blowing porn. I also had a newfound respect for the range of Alastair’s desires and the straightforward way he was able to speak about them. When I’d remarked on it, Alastair had given me a sober look and stated that open communication was vitally important when it came to negotiating a kink scene. And I’d promptly vowed to stop giggling at the phrase ‘anal training’—mostly because the way he’d described it to me led me to believe there wouldn’t be anything funny about what he was planning to do to me, even though I swore that I’d trained my anus very well myself and had he discovered any issues so far?

He’d simply smiled with a gleam in his eye and moved onto the next item of discussion.

When I walked into the gaming parlor to get the key this time, Sebastian—the less discreet of the spouses—was manning the bar.

“Whoa, the Bordello again!” he said, super loud, so that everyone in the parlor looked over to see who was getting the key. Sebastian shook his head and waved his hand, and they turned back to their games.

“Sorry,” he said to me in a low voice. “Jacob keeps telling me not to shout. Sometimes I forget.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care who knows. They’re all fucking jealous, anyway.”

“Yes,” he said as he locked his gaze onto Alastair, who was wearing a pair of brown leather pants and had changed from his winter footwear into a pair of motorcycle boots that gave me a woody just looking at them. He had on a short black T-shirt that hugged his defined curves.

“Good evening, Mr. Kenney,” Sebastian said, gazing at Alastair with eyes that wished they were single for the evening.

“Good evening, Sebastian. How’s business?”

“Can’t complain. Well, yes I can, but not about that.”

I took the key and turned to Alastair. “Got it. Let’s go.”

“Hold on. Can I rent the Bordello for the next two Fridays?” Alastair asked, as my chin dropped. “Same timing.”

“Let me see,” Sebastian said, reaching under the counter and bringing out his iPad. He swiped and tapped, then smiled up at us. “Certainly. I’ll book you in.”

“The next two Fridays?” I said, with a tremor in my voice.

Alastair gazed at me, and I swear there was an evil glint in his eye. “There’s a lot of stuff in that room, and I want you to try out everything.”

I swallowed. Fuck. Me.

“Well, everything that interests you, that is. I’m hoping most of it will.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Sebastian.”

“No worries, Alastair.”

We walked back through the crowd, and I noticed the Youngbloods and some others eyeing me with interest.

“I feel like I’m being led to the auction block.”

“Ooh, now there’s an idea,” Alastair murmured, taking my hand.

“What?”

He shrugged, climbing the stairs ahead of me. “That would be a fun game.”

“Oh my God.”

“Red…or green, Toby?”

“Um. Green.” My mind spun with the idea, and my cock got harder, also from looking at Alastair’s ass in those leather pants and hearing the clunk of his motorcycle boots on the floor. I wondered if sexy Nigel had seen them. Probably.

No, no, no, I wasn’t going to think about Nigel! I used a visualization technique I’d learned from Esther and pictured myself shoving him off a jetty into green water. He didn’t die—I wasn’t that evil—but he came up treading water with seaweed in his hair and a seagull shat on him.

I smiled to myself as I followed Alastair.

 

* * * *

 

Now that the Bordello was beginning to hold some very dear memories, I didn’t think of the space as intimidating, except that tonight we were here for serious kink, and I supposed the buildup had made me anxious.

The St. Andrew’s cross—I remembered the saint this time, so I must be learning—was imposing and made of polished mahogany, with leather padding all along the wood so it at least would be comfortable while you were screaming in agony at the hands of your Dom—or so I imagined.

Every time we’d come into this room on previous occasions, that cross had been there, watching us and waiting.

He led me through the parlor area, past the school desks and the bed and over to the ‘serious’ side of the room, where the bondage furniture was arranged in ways to make each piece accessible.

“Why don’t you have a closer look, Toby? Touch stuff, examine the furniture. Tell me what excites you,” Alastair said, leaning against the wall by the door with his hands in his pockets. He seemed unbelievably calm for someone who was about to tie me up and do horrible, wonderful things to my body. But I saw the bulge in the front of those brown leather pants and the intensity in his gaze when he looked at me.

“Sure,” I said.

Alastair had told me to dress in something comfortable and easy to take off, as he probably would have me naked for most of our visit. I’d worn a pair of black yoga pants—yes, I had yoga pants, no, I didn’t do yoga—and a baby blue T-shirt with a Save the Panda logo on it.

I felt like a virgin as I walked around the space. Alastair had never brought me to this section of the Bordello before, and I wanted to check everything out. There was a leather swing with chain links that rocked when I touched it. And the Berkley Horse that Alastair had explained the first time we’d come to the room. There was some kind of spanking bench that gave me chills—good ones—when I touched its padded top. But the thing that almost made me swallow my tongue when I saw it was the pillory.

“Holy shit,” I said, touching the wood and noticing that this piece of furniture did not have padding. It was meant to be uncomfortable.

I glanced at Alastair, who watched me with an intensity that would have alarmed me if I hadn’t known him well. He was obviously going into his Dom persona now, and I felt small and out of my depth.

“Do you like the look of that, Toby?”

“Like…is not the word I would use. No.”

“Okay. How does it make you feel when you look at it?”

“Terrified.”

“Okay.”

“Turned on.”

“Good.”

“Like a piece of meat.”

Alastair laughed. “Fantastic.”

I blinked, then looked back at the frightening structure. “Do people really use this?”

“Oh yes.”

“Have you?”

“Yes. I like it a lot. It keeps my submissive humble and obedient, and I have access to do just about anything.”

I glanced at him, then looked back at the cross. “Most of this stuff works the same way…holds someone the way you want them.”

He pushed off the wall and stalked toward me. A shiver slithered down my spine and right to my balls, as my dick plumped all the fucking way.

“Yes. But there’s something about the pillory. It’s more…undignified. More debasing, you know?” Alastair explained. “The cross, the spanking bench? They keep a submissive in a convenient position. This”—he reached past me and stroked the polished top of the cruel-looking device—“this can put a sub into a very humiliating and powerless headspace.”

“No kidding.”

“But it can be hard on the back, and I don’t think we’re going to start with it.”

“Fine by me.” I already felt overwhelmed, and my body thrummed with anticipation.

He moved closer and took my chin in his hands, examining my face. “What do you say, Toby? The cross or the bench?”

“To start?” I breathed.

“To start,” he said. “We have lots of time to explore the room.”

“Okay.” I let my gaze wander over everything again. Then I pointed to the St. Andrew’s cross. “That.”

“Yay,” he said, and it sounded hilarious coming from him. I must have looked shocked, because he shrugged and minced like a little girl. Then I saw him go into Dom mode as his expression changed, and he dropped his hand from my chin. “Strip.”

I got to work, pulling my T-shirt over my head then pushing my yoga pants down and off. I piled them beside me on the floor.

“Oh, goddamn it…” Alastair said, hissing a breath.

I stared at him from under the fall of my mussed-up hair. “Do you like them, Sir?”

I’d worn a pair of neon blue lace hipsters that tucked my bottom up nicely and showed off my package.

“You can leave those on.”

“Oh.” I smiled. “Yes, Sir.”

“And the dog collar stays on,” he said as he gathered my clothes and threw them onto the spanking bench.

“Yes, Sir,” I said, feeling small, obedient and so, so sexy.

“Come here,” Alastair said, motioning me to follow him to the St. Andrew’s cross.

I padded over there in my nakedness, looking up at it with awe and excitement.

“Now, should I face you to the wall or toward the room? I’m not asking, just thinking out loud.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll start with you facing out, I think. But I might turn you later.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m going to blindfold you, unless you have any objection.”

“I don’t, Sir.”

He took a cloth from his back pocket and placed it over my eyes, tying it snug at the back of my head. And I was in darkness. My other senses took over and I became very aware of the smells and sounds around me.

“Remember your safeword?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What is it?”

“Bloomers.”

Alastair’s voice was a ballast, and I clung to it. I realized in that moment how rich and nuanced it was, even when he was commanding and measured.

“Turn around and step back. That’s right. Now, raise your arms.”

He fastened my left wrist to the metal hook in the wood, then did my right one.

“Good. Now try to get loose.”

I rattled the cuffs against their hooks and felt deliciously secure. I wouldn’t get loose unless Alastair undid them.

“Spread your legs.”

Soon I was fastened to the cross by my ankles and wrists, with my lower back positioned where the perpendicular planks met. I couldn’t see anything through the black cloth. I’d never even played with a blindfold during sex before, so this was all new. I already loved it.

I sensed movement and got a whiff of his scent as he whispered in my ear: “You okay, Toby?” The fingers of one hand hooked under the waistband of my lacy boy shorts and he drew it down past my erection and tucked it under my balls with a quick competency that impressed me.

“Yes. Yes, Sir.” I breathed, my heart doing a dance in my chest, my cock reaching for the sky.

“Good,” Alastair said. “I’ll check in often.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Alastair said, then his lips were on mine. He kissed me like he had that very first day, and the current that attached us arced like an electrical wire.

“Goddammit,” he muttered when he forced himself away, our panting breaths loud in the space.

“I bet you did really kinky things with Nigel,” I said. Oh fuck. The blindfold had taken away my brain-to-mouth filter.

Alastair was silent, and I wondered if I’d fucked up the whole thing. But then he kissed me again, softer this time, and pulled back, placing a hand on my chin.

“You shouldn’t be thinking about Nigel,” Alastair said. “I wasn’t. Now I am.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, pulling against my bonds with frustration. “Don’t. Don’t think about him.”

“All right. Let’s promise to keep our focus on each other. All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let’s focus on the magnitude of our connection, all right? It’s still there, even when we’re here doing kinky things, right?”

“Right, Sir.”

“Then, I’m not imagining it?”

“No, Sir.”

He leaned in close, and I scented him again. He kissed me very softly on the corner of my mouth, in a way that made me melt and want to do whatever he asked of me.

“We have a bond, Toby. In this room, getting kinky with you, it’s like nothing I’ve experienced before,” Alastair said, with feeling. “With anyone…ever.”

“Oh.” It was a small word, imbued with a million things.

“Kink is a good time, yeah. And playing with an attractive man you’ve just met can be intoxicating. But it’s nowhere near as erotic as playing with a person you have an intimate connection with.” He inhaled a long breath. “Toby, that first time, in the room at the Chateau Laurier? That was more intense, more rousing, and…scarier…than any of the kinky things I’ve done.”

“Scarier, Sir?”

“Terrifying. Because I felt more than a physical attraction to you from the start. I didn’t admit it to myself. I told myself it was my mind playing tricks on me, and that you were a hot little piece that I wanted to enjoy for one night. And since you obviously weren’t experienced with kink, I didn’t want to frighten you by bringing it up.” He laughed softly. “I didn’t realize how much your…youth and inexperience…would affect me. Everything that we do, no matter how soft or how kinky it is, is better than anything I’ve ever done, with anyone, before.”

His words made my heart sing and my dick weep.

He put his mouth to my ear and spoke in a whisper. “So you don’t have to worry about Nigel—or the fuckboy that left the other night or any of the other good-looking men in the city.”

“Okay,” I said, letting out a long, cleansing breath.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

He waited in silence. The wood creaked when I shifted my weight. Then I remembered where we were.

“Yes, Sir.”

“There’s my good boy.”

A shudder went through me. The low tones of his voice, the erotic hit of his words and the desire I felt for this man were beyond anything and everything I’d ever known.

My body became suffused with warmth under his gaze, my cock twitched and bubbled over with want. While I waited, tense and excited, licking my lips with the anticipation of it all, Alastair wrapped his hand around my cock.

“Fuck,” I stuttered, a jolt of electric need slicing into me.

I struggled against the padding of the cross, gasping for breath, as he stroked me with rough pulls of his slick fingers. I was a toy—a doll—for Alastair to play with however he might like to. My sense of self dissolved into an ocean of pleasure that wasn’t gained through deliberate means, or even sought out, but became a mere by-product of Alastair’s will. When I got close to coming, I opened my mouth to say something, but all that came out was a broken moan. And Alastair was reading my body and my reactions, because his hand disappeared, and my cock waved in the air.

“Fuck. Fuck,” I said, desperate and hanging in the purgatory of frustrated desire.

Alastair clicked his tongue. “Silly Toby. Did you think I’d get you off in the first ten minutes?”

I whimpered. “No, Sir.”

“That’s good. Because this is going to be an exercise in endurance.”

Oh fuck.

“Yes, Sir.”

And his hand was on me again, smoothly stroking and teasing, until I got close once more. His touch disappeared.

I made a frustrated, angry sound.

“Quiet. This is nothing. And you need to learn control.”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t think it was a question.

He worked me to the point of orgasm too many times, leaving me in a state of paralyzed agony.

“Please, please, Sir! Please…I need to come,” I whispered, thrusting into the air and rattling my bonds.

“No, I don’t think so.”

I made a noise of desperation, and Alastair laughed. He laughed!

“I’m going to turn you around.”

All the nerves under my skin crackled as he pressed himself against me and unbuckled my wrist restraints. He backed up and brought my arms down.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Alastair commanded, as he bent to my ankle restraints. “Let’s get these off,” he said, pulling my sexy boy shorts down as I stepped out of them. He turned me so that I faced the cross then refastened the cuffs, the length of him pressing against me, the jut of his erection a teasing reminder that he got off on my struggle.

When he finished, he kissed my cheek and stepped back.

“Oh, hell,” he sighed.

“Yes, Sir,” I said, my voice tentative and unsure. I felt more vulnerable with my back to the room, to him. What was he going to do? When would he let me come? There were so many questions that I didn’t dare ask.

“You look fucking profane and so goddamned beautiful.”

I gripped the chains and thrust my hips forward to brush my cock against the leather padding.

“Uh-uh. No frotting the cross. Keep still.”

Oh my God. How was I not going to shove my aching, dripping cock against the cross when it was right there.

I tried to keep still. I wanted to please him.

His hand came down on my right buttock, hard, and I grunted. I hadn’t expected it, but it seemed obvious he’d start with that. Then he spanked the other side, and I moaned. I was getting used to the pain of a hand spanking now, and it was everything I’d ever hoped for. Here, though, where I was blindfolded and attached by each limb to this inanimate object, it was so much more. Pain and pleasure, discipline and care, correction and guidance—a decadent debasement at the hands of my talented Dom.

Who knew that Hell was actually a gateway to Heaven?

The clomp of Alastair’s boots echoed in my ears as he walked away. I heard him whistling an unfamiliar tune as he rifled through the implements that hung to my left. My heart pounded in my chest and my cock surged, wondering what was coming.

He came back and stopped behind me. A rectangular object pressed against my bottom.

“Ungh,” I moaned.

“Guess what this is.”

“A paddle?”

“Hmm. Yes, that’s right. How does it feel?” he asked as he smoothed the surface of it over my bottom.

“It’s cold—and flat, and hard.” I shuddered, squirming away from it.

“Stay still,” he said, pressing a hand to the small of my back. The paddle cracked against my ass, and I gasped at the sudden impact.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

I hesitated. If I told him I’d liked it, he was going to do that again. And I didn’t know how many times it would take for me to stop liking it—or if I ever would.

“Tell me.”

“Yes,” I said. “But, Alastair—I mean, Sir—I…I’m scared…”

He was suddenly there, right next to me, stroking my hair. “What are you scared of?”

I swallowed thickly. “Of what I’m feeling. I’m scared that I’ll want to give you everything and anything. And I don’t know if I can control it.”

“Your submission, you mean? You’re worried that you’ll submit to whatever I want to do to you?”

Was I? Would I? I swallowed. “Yeah.”

He kissed my cheek and smiled against my face. “I won’t let you, my lovely boy. I’m here to protect you as well as to control you. Promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll take it from there.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Sir. I promise.”

“And I’ll be watching. I know you find the fact that I’m so experienced in this world a bit intimidating, but the benefit of that is that I can read a submissive very well. And trust me, I’m going to be paying very close attention to everything you do, everything you say and everything you are.”

I sobbed a breath. His reassurance that he had my back and wouldn’t take me farther than he figured I could handle, no matter what I said or didn’t say, sent a wave of relief through me.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He kissed my cheek again, then he was gone from my side. “I’m going to warm you up. Use your safeword if it gets to be too much, you decide you don’t like it or for any reason at all.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What’s your safeword, Toby?”

My mind was a blur of sensation and the image of Alastair standing behind me with the paddle and what that must look like…and what it meant.

It took me a second to remember. “Bloomers.”

“Good.”

I’d turned my head to the side and pressed my cheek against the headrest—seriously, this was the Cadillac of crosses—so I could hear him better and show that I was paying attention. I wanted to be good for Alastair. The need came from somewhere deep inside me, where perhaps I’d lacked a male authority figure to impress. I craved Alastair’s approval with a physical hunger.

The next slap of the paddle wasn’t as bad as the first. I knew what to expect. The second and third slaps were okay, too. I kind of liked the feel of it and the thud of pain it gave me that was different from the sting of hand spanking.

“So far so good?” Alastair asked, leaning in close again and kissing my cheek.

“Yes, Sir.”

“All right. I’m gonna go a bit harder.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He continued with a little more force and a quicker rhythm. My ass started to burn and protest, but then the spread of heat morphed into a whole-body pleasure as the endorphins helped to dull the pain. It hypnotized me. I clutched the chains of my bindings as I went into an instinctual pattern of tension and relaxation.

“Breathe, Toby. Don’t stiffen up so much.”

Easy for him to say.

“Try to relax into the rhythm of it. Accept it. You’re not getting away from it. You might as well enjoy it.”

I did my best to keep my muscles as relaxed as possible while still bearing my own weight and counterbalancing the forward momentum from each hit. Because every time the paddle made contact, my hips jolted forward and my cock bumped the padding. Excruciating torment at both ends.

Finally, he stopped. I was breathing as hard as if I’d just finished a run, and a warm glow enveloped me. My skin hummed with heat and energy, and it wasn’t a terrible feeling at all.

“Okay. I’m going to try a different instrument,” Alastair said.

I floated on the ache and the burn while Alastair was gone. But he was back after a moment, and he pressed something larger against my tender flesh.

I whimpered, because my ass was already smarting from the other paddle, and this inflamed all my nerves at once.

Alastair chuckled. “You doing okay?”

“Yep. Sure.”

Fine. Just dandy. Naked and strung up, at the whim of a cheerful Dom with multiple instruments at his disposal. Never better.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh shit. Yes, Sir. That’s…that’s what I meant to say. Sir.”

“Uh-huh,” Alastair said with a hint of amusement. “This one is polished wood, but it’s wide and flat. It’s going to be a bit more thuddy. I want to see how you like it—or if you like it at all. Ready?”

I grabbed the chains harder and took a deep breath.

“Yes, Sir. Paddle me. I’ve been a very naughty boy.”

Might as well lean into it.

He didn’t laugh. “Yes. Very, very naughty.”

When the wide flat of the wooden paddle slammed against my ass, it took my breath away. I made a choking noise.

“Fuck!”

“Again?”

I thought of saying no.

“Yes, Sir.”

He brought it down again.

“Oooh, God. Fuck.”

“Again?”

“No. No, stop. I don’t—”

The paddle landed again, and I inhaled with a cry, soaring on pain and pleasure and shock.

“Toby, if you want me to stop, use your safeword.”

Do I want him to stop?

“Do you really want me to stop?”

He thwacked me again, and I felt deliciously chastened.

“No. Don’t stop.” I trembled.

The head of my cock slipped against the padding of the cross, wet with my excitement. Suddenly Alastair’s fingers were there, playing with my dick and rubbing the moisture over the sensitive head.

“Oh. No, no,” I protested, squirming against his touch. It was too much, and it was not enough.

“You really are a spanking slut. You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

Then his fingers were gone, and he paddled me again, faster now, and it became a strange sort of workout. Sweat beaded on my skin, and my legs started to shake. But I was fucking flying. Part of me wanted it to stop right now. Another part wanted it to go on forever.

Eventually, when I started to think about actually using my safeword, if only because I didn’t know how far up I was going to float and I didn’t want to get so high that coming back down would kill me, it did stop. The paddle clattered to the floor, and Alastair pressed against me. I hissed as his zipper scraped my tender skin. Then he slipped lubed fingers between my cheeks and into my body, breaching me with pragmatic ease. He fucked me with one finger pushed deep, then two, as he moved them this way and that, teasing me and stoking my passion. His breathing was as labored as mine, but I was the one making embarrassing, vulnerable sounds.

It was exactly what I needed. I came back into my body, and it welcomed me, letting me feel everything Alastair was doing to me, and giving me so much fucking pleasure.

He slid his fingers out and pushed his cock in, wider and thicker and everything I wanted. I cried out as he went deep, shoving his pelvis against my sore ass, his cock touching me everywhere.

“Jesus. Jesus,” Alastair gasped, his movements getting faster and rougher.

I gasped and tried to breathe as Alastair railed me against the padded cross. The sounds I made were unreal, the cries of a strung-out sex junkie. Sooner than I expected, Alastair cried out, clutching my hips with a grip that added more pain to my euphoria. Then all thought left me as I yelled and came hard, convulsing around him, emptying onto the leather padding, and sobbing with pleasure, pain and ecstatic release.