Gayday! Gayday! - Gay 11 (3 page)

The dominant didn’t comment. Rip closed his eyes as the car pulled out of the car park and prayed for a smooth ride. As they paused at the junction, he opened his eyes and glanced at his friend’s profile.

A one hundred percent straight Slade was a very nice acquaintance, but it couldn’t hold a candle to an even slightly gay version of the dominant. Rip turned his eyes back to face front as they pulled away, but he didn’t see a great deal of the road before them. He had far more interesting images flashing through his mind.

Chapter Two

“Sir?”

It took Slade a few moments to put the honorific and the tone of voice together with a person. “Rip…” The way he said his friend’s name was a warning in itself, but even as it left his lips, Slade knew it wasn’t going to be heeded.

There was only one reason Rip would be phoning him five minutes before he got into bed and attempting to sound even vaguely respectful.

“Sorry, sir. I don’t mean to interrupt. Are you busy at the moment?”

He didn’t sound all that apologetic. Slade sighed. “What have you done now?”

“I might have screwed up a little bit, sir…”

“Spit it out, Rip,” Slade ordered.

“I’m at this club, only it turns out they’re really weird about uncollared submissives being here on their own.”

Slade bit back a curse. “You’re at Cartwright’s.” It wasn’t so much a question as much as a fatalistic predication.

“You know the club, sir?” Rip sounded incredibly pleased with the discovery.

Yes, Slade knew it. He was a bloody member there, a fact he was reasonably sure Rip had been well aware of before he even picked up the phone. Hanging up without another word, Slade collected the items he’d need for an evening at Cartwright’s and pushed them into his jacket pocket.

Half an hour later, he strode calmly into the club. At least this time, there was no worry that Rip would be truly out of his depth. He knew exactly where his friend would be. The holding pen for the uncollared submissives occupied the area immediately to the right of the entrance.

The dominant was half tempted to walk straight past it and leave Rip there for the rest of the night. It would be easy enough to have one of the members of staff check on him every now and again to make sure there wasn’t actually anything wrong.

“Seems you have a brat on your hands, Pearson.”

Slade sighed he turned towards the duty dominant in charge of the club that night. “I’m not sure it should be a collar around his neck or if I’m more inclined to wrap my hands around his throat and throttle him,” he said, shaking his head as he looked over the other man’s shoulder and spotted Rip standing just behind the bars of the holding area, listening to every word.

The submissive’s usual skin tight jeans had been replaced by a tiny pair of leather shorts. A few other strips of leather and a couple of bits of pieces of silver jewellery decorated Rip’s body, but they concealed nothing. He made a very pretty picture framed by the bars of the cage.

“You should come back next Wednesday if that’s what you’re into now,” the other dominant informed him. “There’s a breath play session scheduled—I’m sure you’d be more than welcome to give a demonstration.”

Slade held Rip’s gaze. The younger man didn’t even blink at the possibility. As tempted as he was to call the submissive’s bluff, Slade brushed aside the offer and took a well worn play collar from his pocket.

Reaching through the bars of the sub’s cage, the dominant fastened the length of leather around his friend’s neck and nodded for the guy playing jailer that night, to let the younger man out.

They were tightly packed in there that night—all the uncollared submissives who’d tried to sneak unaccompanied into a club where they were strictly forbidden. Many of the men and women in there seemed to have become very good friends while they all waited for a dominant to offer them a collar for the night so they could progress further into the club. Most had a whispered word for Rip as he squirmed between them.

The moment Rip emerged from the crowd, Slade clipped a lead onto his collar. A firm tug on the restraint ensured the submissive wouldn’t be left behind when his dom for the night walked on.

He should have marched them both straight out of the club. It was the only sensible course of action.

Unfortunately, Slade only realised that when they were well inside the club. There was no way to change direction without making a fool of himself, without making himself look like an indecisive and incompetent dominant in front of Rip. Against all logic, keeping Rip’s good opinion of his skills as a master suddenly felt far more important to him than it should have.

Resigning himself to lingering in the club for a little longer, Slade turned to Rip, removing every trace of slack from the lead until the submissive was brought to stand directly in front of him.

“And what do you think should happen now?” he asked the smaller man.

“You could spank me, sir?” Rip suggested.

“You really think you deserve a reward rather than a punishment?” Slade asked. “You obviously enjoyed your last spanking far too much to learn anything from it.”

“A different punishment then,” Rip suggested easily. “Or you could skip any sort of punishment, if you’d prefer, sir.”

Slade raised an eyebrow. He was well aware that Rip had his faults, but he hadn’t imagined an inclination to try and wheedle his way out of a just penance would be one of them.

Rip smiled slightly. “I dragged you to a kink club in the middle of the night and begged a collar off you, it’s only right that I should do whatever I can to make sure you enjoy yourself. We both know it’s not a real collar—you’re under no obligation to train me, or to punish me, sir. You could just do whatever the hell you want with me for the rest of the evening…”

Slade stared down at the smaller man. Rip met his eyes and he held his gaze without hesitation. It was an honest offer. And if Slade thought he saw something in those big blue eyes that made it look like there might be something deeper than an inclination to get laid in his expression, he had no doubt it was merely a trick of the light.

“And what do you think you could do to ensure I enjoy myself?” he asked, as his curiosity temporarily got the better of his good judgement.

“When you were speaking to Mr. Hewett in Black’s, you implied you’ve enjoyed being served by male submissives before, sir.”

“Yes.”

Rip’s gaze never wavered. Perhaps the light in his eyes was simply an inclination to demonstrate his skills as a submissive, now that he knew his friend was able to consider a male submissive the equal to a female sub. Slade lowered his own gaze for a moment and traced over the other man’s body once more. Whatever caused the offer, it was far too tempting to walk away from.

“If you hand yourself over to me for the rest of the night, make no mistake about it, Rip—I will do whatever I please with you. Your only out will be your safe word.”

“Understood, sir.”

Slade turned away from his new submissive without a word. The lead attached to Rip’s collar saw to it that the younger man followed close behind him. It had been far too long since he’d made time to visit a club. Slade took a slow circuit through the various play rooms and public areas, while he considered his options.

A glance over his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but admire the other man. He’d presented himself so nicely, it was a shame to waste the chance for a proper inspection. Spotting a play area that had just been vacated, Slade led the younger man into the centre of the space and dropped the lead. Rip seemed to understand that meant he was to remain where he was, until ordered to do otherwise.

It was a spartan little space. Slade nodded his approval. No fuss. No distractions. A cabinet stood in one corner, and he knew the club well enough to be sure there would be a nice selection of toys neatly laid out behind the dark panelled doors. A black leather arm chair stood in the adjacent corner. The only other decorations were a pair of heavy black curtains that would separate the play area from the rest of the club when they were drawn, that could separate the men playing behind them from the other men in the building.

“Close them.”

Rip completed his assigned task and returned to the exact point on the floor where his temporary master had left him without a word.

The area was large enough for Slade to walk around him. Rip settled into a pretty little at-ease pose as his dominant circled him. Hands behind his back, feet shoulder width apart, face forward and eyes fixed on some invisible point on the wall opposite him.

As nice as the stance was, it could be improved. A tug on the lead turned the submissive to face the chair rather than the cabinet. Slade dropped the length of leather and chain once more. A brief inspection of the cabinet yielded a pair of leather cuffs. Rip made no comment as Slade wrapped them around his wrists, securing his hands behind his back.

The smaller man tugged at the restraints a little, muscles tensing as the skin pressed against the leather turned white. As Slade walked around to face him, he saw the little smile that played around the other man’s lips and he knew he’d been wrong to wonder if the submissive was testing the bondage. His friend obviously appreciated the feel of the leather moving against his skin.

“You’re not here for your own enjoyment,” Slade reminded him.

Rip’s arms stilled, the tension in the muscles drained away. “Yes, sir.”

A return visit to the toy cabinet yielded a crop. Slade flicked his wrist, slicing through the air as he tested the weight and flex of the implement. It really had been far too long since he’d found time to play. If Rip hadn’t dragged him out with his latest gayday-mayday nonsense, he knew it would probably have been just as long again before he convinced himself to make it a priority and not content himself with a quick, simple and thoroughly vanilla hook up.

It was good to feel the adrenaline rush through his veins as he ran his eyes over a submissive who’d placed himself entirely under his power.

Standing in front of Rip once more, Slade tapped the end of the crop under the younger man’s chin. Directing his movements with the very tip of the implement, he turned the other man’s face this way and that, so he could study him from whichever angle he chose.

Rip followed the commands very nicely, his usual bratty habits a distant memory.

Slade trailed the tip of the toy down the younger man’s cheek and over his mouth. Rip relaxed his lips, letting the leather part them. A bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed down his nerves broke the submissive’s stillness for a moment, but his mouth remained open.

Tracing the implement down his neck, Slade let it play and tap against the skin along the edge of the collar. Rip closed his eyes, as if struggling for control, but he didn’t move. The crop descended once more. The younger man had chosen a pretty set of silver clamps to decorate his nipples. Slade flicked one with the crop. Rip gasped. His lips came together for the briefest second before opening once more as some instinct seemed to rise inside him and insist he maintain the offering.

He really was quite stunning when he stopped buggering about and acting like a prat.

Slade let the edge of the crop flick against the clamps again, each in turn. The submissive seemed incapable of stopping the little gasps that escaped each time the crop fell. His breaths turned ragged. A second later, when Slade turned his attention to trailing the tip of the crop down his abs, the other man stopped breathing entirely.

Rip tried to drag a breath into his lungs. He failed. As the crop played gently over his skin, his head spun. He wasn’t sure if it was due to some sort of rapid descent into subspace or a simple lack of oxygen.

With his eyes closed very tight, he locked his joints and tried to remain perfectly still. Slade didn’t reprimand him for swaying. Rip could only assume that meant he was successful in his efforts to stay motionless. His attempts to force air into his lungs were less so.

The crop returned to his lips.

“In.”

The order kicked Rip’s body into action. Oxygen rushed into his lungs.

“Out.”

Rip breathed out. He felt Slade’s eyes on him, studying him, as if checking he was able to continue the rhythm on his own. For the first time since Slade walked into the club that night, the submissive’s blood rushed to somewhere other than his cock.

He doubted the unexpected blush would do anything to convince the other man that he knew what he was doing, that he could prove to be a good submissive for him. Rip tensed every muscle in his body, determined not to move without permission, not to give the other man the least little reason to be disappointed in him.

As he concentrated on maintaining the same breathing rhythm his master had laid out for him, Rip felt Slade circle him, trailing the crop over his skin in impossibly gentle caresses as he went. The first snap of the tip against his skin made him flinch, more in surprise than anything else.

The kiss of the leather wasn’t harsh, but blood still rushed to the point of contact, eager to take what pleasure it could from whatever tiny bit of pain the other man might be willing to grant him. His right shoulder, the inside of his left thigh, abs, calves, wrists, even the instep of his foot—the crop danced over his skin, never allowing him to know when, where, or even if, Slade would permit him another snap of his wrist, another a spark of pleasure rushing through his veins.

All Rip could do was fall into the moment and cherish whatever Slade offered him. The click of the other man’s shoes against the cold tiled floor set up a tantalising rhythm with the flick of the leather. It seeped into his mind and his body. His heart took up the same cadence.

Rip tightened his hands into fists and bit down on his bottom lip as he scrambled for control, desperately trying not to make the biggest mistake of his life. Yet, the need to make a request still hovered on the tip of his tongue, tempting him to destroy any little bit of approval Slade felt for him.

He didn’t even truly know what he wanted to ask for.