What I really want is a boy of my own, someone who will let me bare every single inch of skin. Someone who will let me expose them entirely. That trust would be…fucking amazing.

Last week, I had a pair who asked me to shave the sub’s hole. It had stunned me. The master had MS, hands shaking too badly to do it himself, but they trusted me. It had been mind blowing to be a part of that with them. Good for all three of us.

“How’s your drink, Cord?” Cedric grins at me, interrupting my musings, and pushes another along my table. “This one’s from the guy who’s been watching you for days in the far back.”

“Someone’s been watching me for days?” I haven’t noticed anyone watching. On the other hand, while I’m shaving, I tend to get pretty wrapped up in it—there’s a lot I wouldn’t notice.

I lean over, trying to get a look at my watcher. There’s a shadow in the back, but that’s it. Just a shadow. It has to be a sub—a master wouldn’t be so shy. I raise my glass in his direction and sit back. I don’t look in his direction again, although now I can sense him, watching me. Staring at me. It’s not exactly unnerving, but it certainly has messed with my Zen.

“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Cedric is a good man and great bartender. He’s also a friend.

“Nah. I won’t take another drink from him through you, though.” I will consider taking another one if it’s delivered in person, but I don’t play the kind of cat and mouse game this sub seems to be looking for. If he won’t even show himself, how am I to know if I’m interested or not?

“You got it. What do you want me to tell the server to tell him?”

“That if he wants something, he should come and ask for it.” That should be clear enough.

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Cedric.”

I relax back into my corner again and focus back on the subs I worked on earlier. I remember shaving the second sub’s head. The man had such an interestingly shaped skull… If he’d been mine, I would have traced it with my fingers, held it in my palms, stroked it, explored it.

A gentle touch to my elbow surprises me, and I come face to face with Gerry, one of the servers. “Sir? There’s a man in the back. He asked me to give you this.” He hands me a piece of paper, the handwriting surprisingly familiar.

The note says, You still look amazing. L.

L.

Liam.

My Liam.

My sub. My boy.

The one who got away, although maybe ran away would be more accurate. I asked too much of him, and he left me for it. Not because I’d asked, but because he’d believed it was something I needed, and he knew he couldn’t give it to me. I only needed him to try, for me.

But why is he here now, buying me drinks and sending me notes?

My eyes go to the back corner again. It’s him. I think it’s him. No, it is him.

I’m up and heading right for him without even thinking about it. He’s hiding in the corner, face down as he types on his phone. Is there even a real text, or is he just pretending to be unaware that I’m coming to him?

I sit down across from him, and he looks up, eyes as light blue and bright as ever.

And just like that it all comes rushing back. The need to shave him, head to toe and all points in between. The need to lay him bare before me. For him to give me that trust. I wanted it all, and I still do. I want to shave him bald; I want to take his eyebrows and his facial hair, so there is nowhere for him to hide.

My prick has gone hard as nails just at the thought of it, just at the sight of those beautiful eyes. Anyone who says the sub has no power in a Dom/sub relationship has obviously never been in one. Liam has and always has had, the most amazing power over me.

“You do, you know.” He says it as if his note has started a conversation, and he is continuing it. “You’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

I shake my head because I have eyes, and he is right here in front of me. “Then you must never look in the mirror.”

“I don’t.” Liam has a little beard, a moustache, hair curling around his ears.

My fingers itch to be holding my straight razor, to bare him for me right here and now. Has he grown the facial hair so that I have somewhere to begin?

I lick my lips. “Why are you here, Li?”

“I still love you, and I can’t figure out how to live without you.”

The blunt words hit me like punches. They’re just like Liam, though. He thought he needed his hair to hide behind, but with it or without it, he has always been straightforward with me.

Liam sits there still, in a way he’s never been before, eyes on his beer that he hasn’t even touched.

“So what are you going to do about it, boy?” I have to ask it—he’s the one who left me, after all.

“Do any of the other boys mean anything to you?” He still isn’t looking at me, but he isn’t fidgeting, that lack of connection the only thing telling me how nervous he is at our meeting.

“If any of them were special to me, I’d be sitting with them.” It’s the honest truth. I’ve had offers, plenty of them. But I have felt a special connection—the connection I’m looking for—with not one of them.

“That’s fair.”

“I am sitting with you.” I know my corollary is clear.

“I miss you.” So sure, so calm—my Liam isn’t calm. He never was.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Does this mean he wants to be together again? Does it mean he’s at least willing to try for me?

I won’t put words in his mouth; my heart can’t afford for me to make assumptions over what he’s doing here.

“I don’t have anything else planned. I was just going to sit and watch again.” Again. He’s been here before, watching me shave.

“I imagine I’m done for the night. There’s usually not much call for me after ten.” My shaving is more like a pre-show. The hardcore stuff tends to go down a little later in the evening, the lighter stuff earlier. We’re in the lull period between them.

“Are you bare anywhere?” I need to know.

He shakes his head. “No. No, that was yours.”

“Was?” It still is mine, if I’m reading him correctly. But again, I need him to be explicit about things. I want to hear from his mouth that he wants me, that he needs what only I can give him.

He clears his throat. “I mean, I couldn’t let anyone else touch me.”

“At all?” Dare I hope? Has he been celibate since he left me?

“At all.” He has.

I take a deep breath, my cock jerking against my pants. It’s more than I could have hoped for, but maybe what I’ve dreamed if I’m being very honest with myself. “That’s a long time to be without touch.”

“I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time when you were the one I needed.”

My heart begins to pound at his words. “Then why didn’t you come see me sooner?” Why did he go in the first place? And is he really saying what I think he’s saying? Does he really want to come back? To me? To us?

“I was ashamed. I was scared. I was stupid, prideful. Drunk. Take your pick.”

I chuckle—I can’t help it. “You’ve been drunk for more than three years?”

“I just got out of rehab.”

Rehab? I look at the beer, but it hasn’t been touched. God, sitting in a bar has to be like penance, and he’s come back at least twice, if not more times.

I reach over and wrap my hand around his; I need the connection of touch. “I didn’t know.” Why didn’t I know he had a problem?

He meets my eyes, not hiding from me now. “I didn’t tell you.”

I squeeze his hand again. “Now I understand why you wouldn’t even try to let me bare you—you had secrets.” God, my boy. My strong, brave boy. It breaks my heart and makes me proud, all at once. He was hiding and now he’s come out into the light. “I have my razors with me, and the small stage is still empty. I could do something about all that fuzz on your face.” Any more than that is private, and we’ll do it at home. Oh, I want to show him off, shave him head to toe for everyone to see. But not the first time. Not the time I make him mine for good.

I take a deep breath and force myself to be calm; I might be getting ahead of myself. Of course, that’s what the offer of public shaving is for, isn’t it? To test the waters. To see if our desires have a meeting place, to see if he’s here because he wants to be mine, or if I’m only a stage in his healing.

“If you want me, I’m yours.” There isn’t a single waver in his voice; he is speaking the truth.

“I want you.” I have no doubts about that. I wanted him years ago; I still want him now. I nod toward the small stage. “You have five minutes to prepare and meet me there.”

Liam doesn’t reply in words, but he bobs his head, answers me in an almost forgotten gesture.

I give his hand one last squeeze and get up to get my kit, to get set up. Find the right mindset. At the moment, excitement is rolling through me. My Liam is here, wanting me. I can’t fucking believe it.

I grab my kit and ask Cedric for two tall glasses of water to be delivered to the small stage. Then I hand over my ceramic bowl. It’s all I can do to keep my hands from shaking, to keep the eagerness from bleeding through into my voice. “And I need this filled with hot water.”

“Sure, man. You got another client?”

“No. I have a Liam.”

Cedric’s eyes went wide. “Like your Liam?”

I grin, knowing it’s more than a little wild, but the excitement needs to leak out somewhere. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

“Oh, man. Oh, I’ll get your water and keep my fingers crossed.” Cedric is a good friend indeed.

“Thank you, Cedric, I appreciate that.” I can feel that I’m still smiling like a loon. I can’t help myself, though. I have missed Liam with a physical pain.

We have so much to discuss, so much to deal with. So many questions to answer. But first, we have this. I’ll shave his beard and his moustache away, reveal the pale lines I love so much.

And I know him; I know that he grew them for me, to give me a place to start. He’s developed patience in our time away from each other—an intensity—and he has returned with intent.

I make my way over to the little stage. It’s only a foot or so off the ground, and the chair I like to use is still there, waiting for Liam to sit. There’s a much grander stage near the center of the room, but here is where I like to ply my trade. Here is where I find a quiet peace while shaving men for their masters. Here is where Liam and I will begin to come together again.

Liam is perfectly on time, not a moment late, not a second early. He has his button up shirt off, just his undershirt and jeans on, his big blue eyes staring at me.

God, he looks good. He’s been working out—not bodybuilder working out or anything like that, but his muscles are well-defined, and he’s clearly fit. There isn’t an ounce of extra weight on him, and it pays testament to the new discipline he’s found in his life. A new discipline that has brought him back to me.

Smiling at him, I nod toward the chair. It is time.

His motions are steady, relaxed. This calm man fascinates me. He’s both achingly familiar and new, all at the same time.

“I’m not going to let you hide secrets from me anymore. You understand that?” I’m going to bare him completely—and not just physically.

Liam nods once. “I understand.”

“Good boy.”

We hadn’t even gotten to the moving in stage yet. Hell, we’d only been seeing each other a couple of months when we called it quits. We never ignited that spark, but I’ll be goddamned if it wasn’t there, just waiting to be lit. Then last week we ran into each other on the street and he called me that night, a testament to the fact that I wasn’t the only one wishing things could have been different.

Maybe putting it all on four days isn’t fair, or maybe it’ll set a fire under our asses and force us to get to the heart of the matter.

The knock to my door is quiet, gentle. Tentative.

I take a breath and force myself to calm. I need to be confident. I need to trust my instincts. Both Derek and I see something in each other or we wouldn’t be back here, spending four days together. Nodding to myself, I answer the door.

Derek is right there, already blushing, green eyes so bright. He’s in clothes that are easily three sizes too big, bag in hand.

I wish he wouldn’t hide his body. It’s not like he’s a bodybuilder or anything, but he’s slender and he has nice shoulders and abs. And his ass...well. If I wasn’t attracted I wouldn’t have been with him in the first place. He has to know that. Or I have to make him realize it.

Smiling, I open the door wide and give him the universal ‘come on in’ gesture with my arm. Even though we dated for two months and had sex in my bed, he’d never stayed the night here. Nor I at his place. This is going to be a totally new experience for both of us – taking it to the next level as they say.

“Simeon. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Trust me, it’s my pleasure.” Reaching out, I cup Derek’s cheek. It’s warm, hot almost from that blush, and his skin is smooth. He’s not a terribly hairy guy, but he’s clearly shaved for me and I’m pleased. “Both our pleasures I hope.”

“Yes, Sir.” He leans into my hand, resting against my touch for a moment.

The sir makes my heart beat a little faster.

Turning his head, he kisses my palm then straightens. “I brought my bag.”

“Good boy. You know where my room is. I cleared the top drawer for you. Unpack and meet me back in the living room. You have five minutes.”

Following orders makes him happy. Him following them makes me happy. I know there’s more for us, but we might as well start with what we know works.

“Yes, Sir.” Derek heads into my room, unpacking quickly. My sweet, baby boy.

I try and remember why we broke up. Oh yes, we didn’t think we had enough in common and neither of us thought fantastic sex should be the only reason to stay together. God, we’re stupid. It might not be the only thing keeping us together, but it was enough to keep going and find something else. Hell, I can invent ten or twelve.

I wait patiently—well, I’m impatient, but I don’t let it show—listening to some overtures for trombone. I don’t even bother noting the time—I’m pretty sure he’ll be less than the allotted five minutes. Derek is not into chastisement, that’s not his thing.

Which works for me—the twinks who push and act out for punishment never did turn my crank. You want a spanking? Fucking ask for it.

What Derek craves is activity, service, care. He never asks for it—I don’t know if he even realizes it, but thinking back to our time together, I can tell that’s what he needs.

Before long Derek is back, standing before me. I nod to him, waiting for him to go to his knees in front of me. He kneels, hiding in the baggy clothes and behind the fall of dark hair.

I take a breath and begin, knowing this will build the foundation of our weekend, hell possibly of our entire relationship. “We need to lay out the rules for the next four days. You may speak freely during this discussion.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’ll be naked indoors. There’s a half apron you can wear while cooking and cleaning.” My boy has nothing to be ashamed of. Not a single thing and I won’t have it. I will let him know how much I admire every part of him, both physical and not. “You will serve me this weekend. Cooking, cleaning, feeding me, giving me pleasure. Your care will bring us both peace.”

Derek doesn’t meet my eyes, simply nods.

“You will sleep at the bottom of my bed, unless otherwise stated.” I’m pushing it this weekend, but I believe that’s what was missing when we were last together.

“Do you even want me here?” he asks.

I don’t hesitate for even a second with my answer. “More than anything.”

Derek nods, sighing softly.

“Talk to me, boy.” This isn’t going to work if we can’t be upfront with each other and I need him to be comfortable enough to express his needs.

“I want you to want me here.” He sighs again then adds, “To like me.”

“Derek, I do. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. What makes you think I don’t want you here or like you?” Have I already blown it? Have I taken a wrong step somewhere?

“I’m just... I feel like you’re acting like I’ve already fucked up.”

“You don’t want rules?” I can’t believe that. “Would you prefer we just go free-form?” I hesitate to do so because that’s what led us to breaking up in the first place—just going with the flow.

“I don’t know. I…I really need a hug. God, I’m a fuck up. No wonder.” He closed his mouth, his teeth clicking together then continues. “What other rules?”

Someone is so nervous it’s pouring off him. I open my arms. A hug is immanently doable. He pushes up and I hold him tight, wrap him close.

“You belong right here, boy.” Above everything else, I want him to know that.

“I just want to make you happy and be happy.”

“I know. But us just being together without rules, without order, without service, that didn’t work last time, did it?” I just want to find the balance that keeps our boat rocking.

“No. No, I’m just nervous,” he admits. “Super nervous.”

“I know how to help relax you.”

Smiling I bring our lips together. Derek immediately opens up, melts against me. He tastes good. Like toothpaste and underneath that, there’s my boy. Salty and warm, with an unexpected sweetness. Better. Better.

I forget sometimes that I need to reassure him. It’s not so much that he’s new to this kind of thing, more that he lacks the confidence of a well-topped sub. I need to help him reach that place.

I grab the bottom of his shirt and begin to pull it up. I drag my fingernails along his skin.

“No too big clothes,” I growl, repeating the rule regarding his nudity, making sure it sinks in.

It was something I couldn’t change in the time we were together, no matter how much I hinted that I wanted to see him in proper fitting clothes, no matter how much I told him he was sexy.

I strip him bare, his perfect body begging for attention. My hands are eager to give it and I touch him, feeling his little nipples harden under my touch. He arches for me, exhales, his entire expression relaxing.

Our mouths meet again and I push my tongue in, fucking his mouth. My boy submits beautifully, opening up to me.

Once every inch of him is bare to me, I explore it all, touching him everywhere. Better. I grin, hands dragging, and I continue with the rules.

“Our third rule will be no cursing.”

“Fourth, Sir.”

“You’re right, it is the fourth.” I hadn’t been testing him, but I’m pleased he was paying close enough attention he caught my mistake. It tells me that it really was just nerves that made him hesitate, made him question whether I wanted him here or not.

I keep touching him, stroking his body so that he can feel the connection between us.

“If there’s anything you want you need to ask me.” We Doms like to pretend we’re all seeing mind readers, but the truth is, we’re just pretty good at evaluating our subs and the best relationship I can have will be one where my lover isn’t afraid to share his needs, his fantasies.

Hell, I can probably figure out what Derek needs most of the time, but those fantasies—they aren’t always clear. We all like to keep that part of ourselves well-hidden. Derek needs to know all of him is safe with me. Every last inch and every single desire.

“Yes, Sir. I just want to make this work.”

“Me too. I’m pretty sure all that was missing before was proper communication and a deeper trust.”

Derek stares at me. “I tried, I swear I tried.”

I shake my head as I cup his face so he can’t look away. “It takes two to tango, and I was in no way blaming you.”

God, I love the way the air between us is charged, electric. The attraction was always there, but this intensity is new, deeper. This is what I was looking for, what we can build on.

I pull in a deep breath and I’m thrilled that he does, too, like he has to because we’re already that connected.

I hum for him, touch his lips, his ears, his eyelids. Everywhere on his face. I see him. I’m making sure to look this time, and to let him know that I am. By the time I’m done, he’s trembling, shaking in my arms.

His need is intoxicating, his cock hard for me now, begging for my attention. I’m not going to touch his prick, though. This will all be easier if he’s needing.

“Anything else before we begin, boy?”

“No, Sir. No. We haven’t begun?”

“We’re setting ground rules before we begin.”

“Okay.” He’s staring at me. I can read the trust there and I can see how much he wants me, too.

I’m ready and I know he is, too. “Then let’s begin right now.”

I take his mouth, start us off with a deep, hungry kiss. His lips open, easy as anything, beautiful and eager. I play with his tongue, sliding mine along it, tangling them together. I love how he tastes, how he feels. I know I’m going to love how he serves.

The Winter Meadow is filling up, and I’m on my second Coke. I don’t drink the hard stuff when I plan to play.

Nikolai is across the room, in the midst of a group of twinks, holding court. There’s something about the dark eyes, the grace, that makes a man’s mouth dry, makes him a little crazy.

I put my Coke down and slowly make my way toward him, my focus narrowing.

He’s telling a story, pure drama and charm, the twinks all laughing. They grow quiet as I draw near. All of them but Nikolai. Those dark eyes look me up and down, black eyeliner making them look even bigger.

I hate to admit it, even just to myself, but he does it for me.

I stare back, not letting this pushy man get to me—he’s a bottom and I’m a Top, and I’m not going to let him forget it. He tries to stare me down, tries to back me down. Instead, I take a couple steps forward.

Several of the twinks surrounding Nikolai slip away.

“Master Black? Can I help you with anything?” Kane, one of the more experienced subs who has been writing something on a notebook looks up at me, smiles.

“No, thank you, Kane.” I spare a smile for Kane then go back to looking at Nikolai, one of my eyebrows going up as I wait for him to acknowledge me.

The man’s teeth worry the thin bottom lip, pierced tongue flicking out. “Hey, Master Black. How’s it going?”

“Good. And how are you doing, boy?”

“Great. Just giving our boy Kane here a little hell. He’s going to school. Doing homework.”

“And that deserves hell?”

Nic shrugs, nudging Kane with one shoulder, and it suits me to the bone that the contact seems playful, fond, not mean at all. I want to play, but I won’t abide bullying assholes. “After he teased me for a month about my job, absolutely.”

Kane sticks his tongue out at Nic and Nic grabs it, tugs. That playful charm is what draws everyone to Nic. It’s also how he escapes trouble.

“Would you like to share a drink with me? When you’re done tongue-tying your friend, that is.”

“Me? Sure.” Nic looks a little confused. “I can always use a little lubrication.”

“Excellent.” I turn and get the attention of Royu, the bartender, and indicate a refill for myself and one for Nic. Royu will know what the lovely man is drinking tonight.

Royu nods and winks, and Nic’s lips twist. Such a moveable feast, that mouth.

“You’ve never stopped to talk to me before.”

“No, I haven’t.” I could just come out and tell him what I want, offer my proposal to take him on as a sub, but I want to see if he will ask, and if he does, what he will ask.

“Huh.”

“Nicky! Nicky, come dance with us?” Two little twinks bebop up, wrap around Nic, kissing his cheek.

God, he’s sexy. Beautiful.

I answer for him. “Maybe later, boys. He’s having a drink with me.”

“Oh. Oh! Sorry, Master.” They are a slinky pair, rubbing together, seductive. And they make an excellent foil for Nikolai. Perhaps one day I’ll do a scene with all three of them.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. “It’s fine, boys. You didn’t know.”

Nic looks at them. “We’ll goof off later. Maybe play Spin the Bottle.”

“Maybe. Don’t bank on it, though, boys.” I give them a wink then turn my attention back to Nikolai.

He looks at me, obviously curious, but doesn’t ask.

Royu brings our drinks—my Coke and his…

“What the hell is that?”

Nic grins. “A flaming Dr. Pepper.” He blows the flame out with a puff.

I have to laugh. He’s a showy, beautiful, pushy boy.

Nic shoots the drink back, long throat working. “Thanks for that. Love the burn.”

“Do you really?” If he does, why does he always work his way out of hard scenes with cries and whimpers and those puppy dog eyes? I want to know. No. I need to know.

“Huh?” Those huge dark eyes meet mine.

“You said you love the burn. Do you?”

“Sure. That’s why I drink them.”

“I wasn’t talking about the drink, boy.”

I get a look. “I’m no one’s boy.”

“Don’t you want to be?” Surely, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t, but his actions don’t seem to agree.

He shrugs. “What does it matter? Do you want to play or what?”

“I do want to play. I should warn you though, Nikolai. I’m interested in far more than just playing.” A pushy boy like him needs someone full-time—someone who won’t be scared away by the fact he needs a strong hand.

“We’ll see. I’m not the long-term type.”

No, Nikolai pushes everyone away. I have seen him do it again and again, but he hasn’t pushed me away yet. “I need your safeword, Nikolai.”

“Camel.” At my look, he shrugs. “It’s what I smoke.”

“It’s a filthy habit.” I tuck away the safeword in the back of my mind. I won’t forget it.

“Maybe. Addictions are entertaining.”

“Can be entertaining. Some are dangerous and deadly.”

“That’s cool. I’m easy.” And glib. And fierce. And, I think, scared.

I touch his cheek, letting my fingers linger on the smooth skin. It’s warm, which surprises me, because he looks like he’d be cool to the touch, like porcelain.

Heat stirs in my belly, in my balls. And I keep stroking; it’s not a sudden and sharp electricity. It’s something much deeper, a warmth that grows between us. A tension full of promise.

But that’s not what happened. We’re at this…farm.

“I…I have a friend that told me about it. I thought… I think you’ll find what you need here, Jack.”

“What I need?” What the hell?

“We both know I haven’t been giving you what you need, not deep down necessary need.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What the fuck is this place?”

“It’s your home for two weeks. Your vacation. Your fantasy.”

Two weeks? That’s my whole vacation from the office. I hadn’t asked for it off. I hadn’t talked to my manager.

“Everything’s been cleared at your work. I’ll go in and water your plants and stuff. You’re good to go.”

“I am not going to just… You can’t just leave me here!”

A huge hand lands on my shoulder, solid and hot. “Jack? I’ll be your groom for your stay with us.”

“Groom? What? I don’t understand…” I don’t understand any of this. I didn’t even pack a bag.

Billy turns to me. “I arranged this for you, Jack. Trust me, okay? If it doesn’t make you happy, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Trust you? You bring me out here and say, ‘See you in two weeks?’”

Billy starts walking away. Just walking to the car.

The hand on my shoulder turns me, and, whoa, this guy is a stud. Tall, muscled, wearing a pair of tight riding pants, a tight turtleneck, and a riding jacket in a variety of browns. His square jaw and blue eyes are mesmerizing.

“Forget him. These two weeks are about your journey.”

“I don’t have my phone charger, a toothbrush. I can’t just… I don’t know where I am!”

“You’re at the Wellbrooke Pony Farm, and I am Master Daniel, your groom.”

“Pony farm? Me? I’m a city kid. I don’t ride.”

Daniel smiles. “You really don’t know why you’re here, do you?” My arm is taken, put on Daniel’s, and he leads me toward the barns. “Do you know what a safeword is?”

“I… Yes? Yes, I… My ride is leaving.”

“He’s not taking you back, boy. You should stay and at least see what I can do for you.” Daniel’s voice is deep and husky, like the best kind of whiskey.

I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand why I keep walking.

“I’ll need your safeword before we go into the barns.”

“Marigold. Why? I don’t…I don’t know you. I can’t do this.”

“Marigold. Got it. And you don’t even know what you’re doing yet.” That voice is soothing, like Daniel is calming me.

My eyes aren’t focusing, my heart is pounding, and I’m fucking wigged the hell out.

Daniel turns me again, so we’re facing each other, one hand cupping my cheek, the other stroking along my arm. “Take a breath.”

“I’m scared.”

“I’m here to take care of you, colt. To teach you and help you find your place.”

“M-m-my name is Jack.”

“Oh, you are nervous.” Daniel leans in and kisses me, his lips warm and soft as they cover mine.

I suck in a breath and realize he tastes sweet, minty. Good.

I’m kissing a stranger.

The kiss stops briefly as he takes a breath and breathes the air into my lungs. I can’t believe that I’m standing here, breathing this in. Doing this.

His tongue slips between my lips, sliding in to taste me. His huge hands move over me, stroking along my spine. That touch is hypnotic, and I find myself leaning into it.

“Such a good colt. So sweet.” The words vibrate on my lips, make me shiver a little.

He leans his forehead against mine, and it takes me a few moments to realize I’m breathing with him, following his lead without even thinking about it.

“Good colt. Good boy. I’m here to make this good, for you.”

I don’t even know what that means.

“I understand from your registration that you’ve never done this before.” Daniel has put my hand back on his arm and is leading me toward the barns again. We’re headed for one of the smaller ones.

“I don’t know what this is.” Billy has just deserted me.

Daniel opens the door to the barn for me. “Pony play.”

Pony play.

There are no horses in the barn. It doesn’t even smell like a barn. I just shake my head, my eyes closing. Billy got into my computer. That’s the only answer. I’d been surfing and…it’s fascinating, erotic as fuck, but not real.

It can’t be real.

Daniel’s fingers slide along my cheek, warm and gentle. “I’m your groom for the next two weeks, and you’re my colt.”

“This isn’t real.” I’m going to shake apart.

“It doesn’t get any realer than this, colt.”

He leads me in, and I want to run, I want to, but I keep coming.

“This will be your stable.” He opens a stall door, and there’s a small bed on the floor, bridles, saddles and…and tails hanging along the wall.

“Stable.” I blink, my brain on tilt. Tails. There are tails with fat plugs on the end. Boots. Crops and whips, too.

It’s… I don’t have the words.

Those huge hands keep touching me, smoothing down my arms.

“Along with your safeword, I need a safe gesture for when you can’t speak.”

“A safe gesture? Like what?” Are we discussing this? Really?

“Like a sharp cut of the air, a thumbs down…”

How do the words “sharp cut of the air” sound so intimidating?

“If you can’t decide on one now, we’ll revisit it once we get to the bits.”

My brain shorts out. Daniel draws me into my…stall? We go to the cot, and he pulls me down to sit on it.

“We’ll start with getting you naked.”

I sit there like an idiot, staring as he opens my shirt, opens my buttons, bares me. He smiles as he sees my double pierced nipples, nods as if he’s pleased.

“They’ll take reins beautifully.”

“I should go home before I make a mistake.”

“Going home would be a mistake.”

He slides a finger along my breastbone, right down to my navel.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Oh, God. Oh, God.

“But you want it.” His hand drops to my package.

“What…” I stand up, my heart fluttering, about to bolt.

Daniel stands with me, hands sliding on my skin, gentling me. “You’re hard, colt.”

“I’m…”

He opens my jeans, smoothes them down over my hips.

He’s right—I’m hard. My cock pushes against my underwear as if trying to get his attention.

“What lovely lines. Your man, he told me you have a cock piercing.”

“He’s not my man.”

Daniel’s nostrils flare. “You’re unattached then?”

“I’m too… It doesn’t matter.” I’m obviously too out there for a normal man, right?

“I asked you a question, colt. So, the answer must matter.”

“I’m not with anyone.” Billy left me here. It’s over.

A little voice in the back of my head whispers, It was over months ago.

“Good.” Daniel looks like he really means that. His thumb slides across my bottom lip. “That makes me happy.”

This soft sound tears out of me, weird and wild.

He looks pleased about that as well, and for the longest moment, we stand there, staring at each other. Then he tugs my underwear off, and I’m completely naked before him.

I cover my cock with my cupped hands, the piercing at the tip tapping my arm.

His eyes drag slowly along my body, and he reaches for the ring in my prick.

It’s thick, solid, and I play with it a lot, tug it, make myself feel it. Billy hated it.

“Oh, it’s a real ring. Not one of those barely there skinny ones that are mostly for show.”

“It’s solid.” Am I standing here naked? Discussing this? Seriously?

He touches it, moves it through my prick. His fingers are on me, bumping the head of my cock.

“I shouldn’t…” Fuck, I want to, though. I want someone to touch it other than me.

“You shouldn’t what, colt?” He tugs on the ring, pulling it.

I go up on tiptoe, rock slightly. “Let you touch.”

“Oh, colt, there’s no ‘letting’ about it. I’m the groom here. You’re the pony.”

I’ve sucked him off, let him tie me in ropes that left marks for days, let him shave every inch of my body, let him fuck me with latex of every shape, but he never touches that most secret part of me, not with his body. Today, though, he told me to clean myself—inside and out—to bend over the arm of the couch and wait for him.

So, I’m waiting.

I can feel the air of the room on my ass and my legs, and my cock is leaking, dripping. Thank God I thought to bring a towel with me, so I didn’t stain his upholstery.

I want his cock inside me. Slamming into me. Making me scream. Making me come and stretch and…

“Hold your cheeks apart, boy.” His voice is like a whip, snapping across my skin.

“Yes. Yes, Sir.”

My face is smashed against the cushions as I reach back, my muscles jerking and stretching as I obey him. Fuck, my glutes are rock hard, like I’ve been pumping iron for hours instead of standing here, open and needy like a whore.

His finger trails along the outside of my crease, a wicked tease. “Are you slick for me, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The sudden pop of his fingers makes me jerk. “Did you finger-fuck yourself? Did you push those fingers into your needy hole without permission?”

Oh.

Oh, God.

Oh, fuck.

He’d told me to be ready. I had to touch to do that, right?

Right?

“Y-yes?”

His fingers tangle in my hair, jerk my head back, and his voice is a low growl in my ear. “Is that an answer or a question?”

“An… an answer, Sir.”

“Excellent. I’m going to have to punish you, you know that, don’t you?”

A long, black riding crop is set on the sofa, along with a huge tube of lube and six plugs. They start small then get bigger and bigger, and I swear the last one is nearly the size of a fist.

There’s no way.

No way.

“I…” I let go of my ass cheeks, move to stand up, and his hand lands in-between my shoulder blades.

“You’re better trained than that, boy. Open your fucking ass for me. Show me your hole.”

I reach back, my palms sweaty now, and spread myself wide again. I can hear my fucking heart pounding in my ears, feel the solid wall of muscle that is my Sir standing behind me, the scent of his leather close enough to make me dizzy.

“Such a good little boy.”

The diminutive makes me wince. I’m not little, not any of me, but he insists… Another sharp slap shatters my thoughts, and I gasp.

“Now, boy,” he says, picking up his crop. “Beg me to punish you. Beg me to whip that baby hole.”

Oh, sweet fucking God. My entire body tenses, and my legs shake. I can’t. I can’t. But fuck, I want him. I want him to finally fuck me, shoot inside me. Mark me as his.

I can feel the air moving against my ass as he tests the crop. Hell, I can hear the sound it makes, like a promise.

“I’m waiting.”

I open my mouth to growl at him, to tell him to back the fuck off and leave me alone. I’ll just go. I’ll find a man who wants me as badly as I fucking need him. I’m just going to tell him I’m done. I quit. I don’t fucking want him anymore.

“Please, Master. Please whip my hole. I fucked myself with my fingers, wanting it to be you.”

His chuckle is dark, husky, knowing. “How many blows do you deserve, little boy?”

Well, fuck.

What the fuck is the right answer? I freeze, totally unsure.

He bends over me. I can tell because he’s so fucking hot, and while he’s not actually touching me, that heat pours off his body and teases my skin from my neck all the way down my back, against my ass.

“Do you really want me to be the one to decide?”

If I say too few, he’ll tear me up. If I ask for too many, he’ll tear me up. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Shit.

“Please. Please, Sir. Can I have…” Ten? Twenty? Thirty? “…fifteen, please?”

“Such a naughty, naughty little boy.” His breath blows across my ear and makes me shiver, but he sounds please. Is he pleased?

My entire body is buzzing, my fingertips digging into my ass cheeks. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. Please punish me.” My cock rubs against the towel, the terrycloth rasping the tip and giving me a delicious burn.

The crop lands along my crack, including my hole. He didn’t give me any warning, just did it, the sudden shock of pain huge. Enormous.

“Count.”

“Fuck!” My ass clenches, my body jerks. “Fuck!”

“That didn’t sound like a one. We’ll have to start over.” The crop lands again, not quite as hard this time. Or maybe it just doesn’t feel as hard.

“One. One, thank you, Sir.” Fuck, that stings.

“Much better.” God, his voice is so firm, so strict, and it goes straight to my balls.

The crop hits me again, this time concentrating on just my hole, the little flap of leather at the top hitting across it.

It makes me grit my teeth, makes my balls draw up tight. “Two. Two, Sir.” I’m never going to make it to fifteen. Why did I ask for fifteen? What if he’d been happy with ten? With five? My thoughts are interrupted by another hit of the crop, another smack right against my needy hole.

“Shit! Three! Fuck!”

Four and five are sharp and hard. “Thank me, boy.”

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you. Please.”

“Such a good little boy. You keep being this good we may make it ten instead of fifteen.”

Number six slaps hard along my whole crack.

“Six. Six. I tried to pick a good number, Sir. One to make you proud.” He fucking strips all my secrets from me, and I hate him.

“I know. You’re a good little boy. Trying so hard for me. Except when you want my punishments.” He brings the crop down again.

I arch, and the sting is deep, burning, and fuck, I want the next one. Need it. Now. “Seven.”

I get what I want, the eighth hit harder than any of the others have been and so fucking good. By ten, I’m dancing, cock rasping on the towel, balls drawn up tight.

“You think you deserve those next five, boy?”

“Please. Please, Master.”

“Good boy. Keep counting.”

By fourteen, I’m fighting for every breath, feet slapping on the floor as I kick.

“One more, little boy. One more swat to that needy little hole of yours. That greedy little hole.”

The hit lands directly on my hole, and before I can even take a breath to count it, Sir pushes the tip into me. I scream, coming over the towel like a teenager, like a virgin. My balls empty so fast and hard that it’s more an ache than a pleasure.

“Did you just come without my permission, little boy?” He sounds so pleased about it.

My hips move, riding the odd sensation of the crop that teases my sensitized hole. The spunk eases the friction of the towel on my dick, the burn now a slide.

The crop pushes deeper. “Answer me, boy!”

“Yes! Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to…”

“We’ll have to find a punishment for that now, won’t we?” That crop moves in and out, the thin rod fucking me.

“I-I’m sorry.” Fuck, that burns, so good.

“I know you like it when I punish you, little boy.”

I shake my head, swallowing hard. No. No, I want to be fucked. Rewarded. Taken.

“Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you didn’t get off on the crop.”

“I don’t lie to you!” I’ve only made that mistake once, and it almost ruined us, our trust.

“Then tell me how much you loved your punishment, little boy.”

“I’m not little!” I focus on that because how can I argue the rest with my cock covered with my own cum?

He laughs, but it’s not a mocking sound, it’s more like…like I bring him joy.

“You’re my boy, though, and it makes you ache, makes you hard, submitting to me.” His fingers pinch and tug my skin; he pulls on the backs of my thighs, stimulates the nerves in the small of my back, makes me ache. “Tell me, Blake. Tell me you’re my little boy.”

I’m aching, wanting, but it’s so much harder now, now that I’ve come, now that the need has eased off.

He pulls the crop out and uses it across my buttocks. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours.” Is that enough?

“You’re more than just mine.” His fingers are in my hair, tugging the slightest bit, the sting making my eyes water.

“Your boy.”

He doesn’t say anything, just tugs harder, demanding.

I don’t want to say it, but my body wants me to. My cock is stiffening, the discomfort unnerving and making me ache. “Your little boy. I’m your little boy.”

“You’re my good little boy.” He kisses my hole, breath and lips so hot against my skin.

“Yes…yes, Sir.” I sob, that gentleness, the care, intense, overwhelming. God, he makes me need.

“You don’t want this empty hole to be filled, do you?” For a minute I think he’s going to cancel the whole thing, then his tongue flicks against me and he goes on. “No, you don’t want it—you need it.”

Goddamn it. I hate that Brody just decides that it’s time to... to... I grab the envelope and open it with a growl.

Boy.

Lock your weapon away in the safe. Strip down and come to the first landing. Blindfold yourself and assume the position. You are mine for three days.

Master.

I shake my head. No. No way. I have paperwork to do. Cases to worry about. “I don’t have time for this shit.” I’m tired. I’m hungry. I don’t feel like playing games.

Why the fuck am I locking my piece in the safe? Removing my so-sensible shoes, my belt, and my shirt? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Him. It’s him. Master Brody. Damn it. Just Brody.

Only if it was just Brody I wouldn’t be pulling down my pants and removing my socks. I wouldn’t be climbing the stairs stark-fucking naked.

There’s a little table there with a dark blindfold, that’s it. A fucking blindfold.

My hands are shaking as I put it on. “I don’t want this! I have things to do!”

Then I settle on my knees, legs spread wide, hands behind my head, clasped on my neck. There’s no answer to my angry words, but I can suddenly feel eyes on me. My instincts are good, I can always tell when I’m being watched, but with Brody it’s different. I mean, damn, it’s like a touch. A goddamned touch that moves over my entire fucking body.

I know he sees every inch of me, too. He’ll see that I’ve lost five pounds, that I need a shave, that my muscles are tense and jumping. Speaking of jumping, I nearly jump out of my fucking skin when his hand ghosts across my shoulders.

“Mmm. Sweet baby boy, so nervous.” His voice is deep, as dark as his skin and rich as velvet. “You’ve been working a bad case.”

I can feel his breath against my ear.

“It’s over now and it doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing exists but what I allow. Because here, now, you’re my boy.”

I can feel him easing into his subspace, into his center and I take a mouthful of water and bring our lips together, slowly passing the water to him. Davey whimpers, the intimacy sending him deeper. I do the same thing with a second mouthful, wanting to make sure Davey has enough liquid.

Then I grab a raspberry and rub it against Davey’s lips, pressing hard enough to break some of the flesh and leave juice behind. He opens for me, and I lick him clean. Grabbing another berry, I pop it in his mouth, letting him have the full experience of the berry bursting between his teeth.

“Mmm.” His moan is deep and heartfelt.

I do love how he loves berries.

The next one I put between my lips and press against his, the raspberry exploding between us and leaving us both lapping each other clean. The sweet and tart and the flavor of him beneath it are intoxicating and make me moan.

He shifts to straddle me, making it easier to hold on, share kisses.

I let dessert go on, sharing a half dozen more berries with him and at least twice that many kisses. Davey’s relaxed, easy for me.

This is how I need him to be, to stay. But I have to tell him now—I won’t spring it on him.

“We’re going to work on bondage tonight.”

His relaxation fades, a soft frown blooming on his face.

“It’s time, boy. You trust me and I know you’ll use your safeword if it becomes more than you can handle. And I imagine that this will take us more than one scene to do.” I’m not expecting overnight miracles. I’m willing to put the time in. I just want him to try, and to trust me.

He shakes his head. “I don’t...It’s not my thing.”

“It’s more than not your thing – it’s a wall, a huge barrier. I’m going to help you overcome it.” I stroke his back, holding his gaze.

“But why? I’ll... Don’t you want me to suck you again?”

“Of course I do, but this scene is starting with the bondage. We’ll go as far as we can and then I’ll reward you for how far you get.”

Today, though....pearling. We’re going to have five pearls inserted beneath the skin of my penis. I’ve been looking at the pictures on the web for days, examining them, trying to imagine my penis with large bumps in it. I can’t fathom it, and I laugh at the sites that go on and on about how the piercings make intercourse better. I don’t foresee my master bottoming in the near future.

He says it’ll make masturbation better too, not that I’m allowed to touch myself. The thought of Master Aubrey’s hand around me, sliding over pearls inside me as he jacks me, that does make me shiver. And making his touch, which is already wonderful, even better, sounds good.

“Isaac.” Master Aubrey says my name like it’s not the first time he’s said it. Or the second. Or possibly even the fifth time.

“Master?” God, he’s beautiful. Tall and strong, his dark eyes piercing me. His body is covered in tattoos as well, each one enhancing his muscles, his shape, his form.

“Is everything all right? I’ve been talking to you and finally realized you hadn’t heard a word I said.”

“I was...stressing,” I admit. “I’m sorry, Master. I was in my own head.”

“Ah, I might have guessed that.” He pulls me up into a hug, his body warm and solid, and everything I need it to be. He’s everything I need him to be.

“It’s a relatively easy procedure and the healing time is less than it was for the nipple rings.” He touches my rings as he speaks of them, flicking both in my left nipple, then tugging on the two in right one.

“Yes, Master.” In his arms, fear becomes anticipation and nerves. Always. I know he has my best interests at heart. I know he wants the best for me and of me.

“We’ve been working toward this for five years. I totally understand your nerves, but I have to admit—I’m excited.”

I can tell he is—despite his regular morning blow-job, Master Aubrey is hard again. I can feel the delightful press of him against me even through his clothes. I don’t wear any, at his order, and the feeling of his clothed body against mine is rather intoxicating. Not to mention addictive.

My body responds immediately to his, hardening for him and I resist the urge to beg, to rub and rock and touch.

I am rewarded for my control when Master Aubrey tilts my head and takes my mouth. The kiss is hard and heavy with anticipation, with love and the need for connection. I melt against him as he owns me with his kiss.

His hand is on my ass, fingers tracing the pattern of the swirls of ink there. He knows every inch of me by heart, my shape, my tattoos, every bit of me. I can’t hide a thing from him.

“My boy,” he whispers, moving us slowly toward the playroom. Not the living room or the bedroom, but in the opposite direction. He’s about to give me something other than the coming pearling to focus on.

“My master.” I am his. Wholly. I’ve given him control over every inch of me. And scary as some of the things he’s asked and will ask me to do are, it brings me such peace and joy to be fully in his hands.

We slip into the playroom with its huge frosted windows that let in light but give us complete privacy. It’s very bright this morning, the sun shining. I stretch under the light, loving how my master’s eyes travel over me. I don’t assume anything. There are options here, he could chain me to the wall, bend me over a bench, lie me down on the bed, or set me in any number of other positions. I simply wait for his desire.