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Base Over ApexIt’s Valentine’s at the Spread Eagle leather club, but the only sub Jack’s even spoken to belongs to his best friend, Marcus—and all Bret did was con him into taking a stupid bet. It is not going to be a good Valentine’s night…
The moment Jack sees Ricky walking naked through the bar, he wants him. When Ricky kneels at his feet and offers him the keys to his restraints, it’s obvious that his interest is returned. It might just be the best Valentine’s Jack’s ever had… Ricky is sweet, and eager to please, and obviously new to leather. He’s the kind of guy who actually makes Jack wonder if “something at first-sight” might really be possible. But, when it suddenly becomes apparent that everything is not what it seems, the only thing Jack knows for sure if that this Valentine’s night is going to get very, very complicated. Please note: This story was previously published under the title Call Me Sir, Boy! This version has been re-worked to become part of the Kinky Cupid Series, but it has not been significantly extended.
Facts and Figures:
Series: Kinky Cupid (Book 2) Length: Short Novella (20,000 words) Genre: Contemporary, BDSM, Erotic Romance Pairings: Male/Male Published: February 2014 (Second Edition) |
Excerpt...
“Bloody hell!”
Jack Bowen looked up as he heard the exclamation, knowing that anything that could raise an eyebrow in the Spread Eagle had to be worth seeing. Craning his neck, he lifted himself slightly out of one of the low, leather armchairs arranged near the back of the club’s main bar room, and peered through the leather-clad press of people.
Finally, a guy wearing a set of well-worn chaps stepped to the right. Another man wearing a top to toe leather body suit moved to the left. A boy came into view.
Short spiky brown hair. Big green eyes. Nice lean lines of muscle. Not more than twenty-three, maybe twenty-four years old.
Some strangely detached and analytical part of Jack’s brain noted all those particulars and filed them underjust my type. But most of Jack was far too preoccupied with the fact the boy was stark bollock naked to immediately take in anything else.
As the young man continued to make his way slowly through the crowd, Jack gradually registered other details, like the way the boy was blushing very prettily for his audience. Jack smiled slightly to himself. It was possible the boy was carrying out some sort of Valentine’s bet, but it seemed more likely that one of the doms who enjoyed humiliation was making a prospective submissive jump through a few hoops for his entertainment.
The boy had black leather cuffs separately padlocked around each of his wrists and ankles. The restraints begged someone to fasten them together and render him completely and gloriously helpless. There was no collar though…and any man who let a submissive who looked like this boy wander through the Spread Eagle without a clear sign of ownership wrapped around his neck was damn near asking for the boy to be snatched from beneath his nose.
The sub came closer. Jack let his eyes drift up and down his body. The sub’s cock was slightly hard, but he was nowhere near enthusiastic enough about his predicament to be marked out as an exhibitionist. If the fresh cut on his crotch, right where his skin creased between his leg and his groin, was anything to go by, he wasn’t very experienced at shaving anything other than his face either.
There wasn’t a hair to be seen anywhere below the boy’s neck. If it really had been his first attempt to follow a command to shave himself clean, he’d done a bloody good job. Jack glanced at the cut again—a literally bloody one. Jack smiled more broadly.
Whoever the boy was subbing to was one lucky sod and obviously destined to have a far more enjoyable Valentine’s night than Jack was.
Silent, bare footsteps brought the boy closer still. Jack straightened in his seat as the submissive glanced in his direction and turned toward him. It didn’t seem to be just wishful thinking that hinted he was the boy’s destination…
There were doms sitting in armchairs either side of Jack. Marcus Tremayne sat to his left—but the boy couldn’t be going to him. Sub or not, Bret would have Marcus’ balls if he screwed around on him. Dan Jacobs sat on Jack’s other side, and even though he didn’t currently have a sub, he was due to work behind the bar that night, and he never played when he was working a shift.
It seemed reasonable to assume that--
Yes. As Jack watched, completely entranced, the boy stopped directly in front of him and lowered himself to his knees.
Jack was just able to glimpse a flash of metal near the boy’s lips before the submissive placed his hands behind his back, bent at the waist, and leaned forward until his forehead touched the floor between Jack’s leather boots.
Habit made Jack reach up to push his hair back out of his eyes as he looked down at him, but of course, there were no shaggy, blond strands hanging forward into his eyes that night. It was all trapped under that bloody stupid baseball cap.
Jack dropped his hand back to the arm of his chair, barely able to waste more than a second wishing he’d never taken on that stupid bet with Marcus’ brat in the first place. But, seriously, who could have expected Bret to stay silent for an entire hour?
“I think he likes you.” The words came from Jack’s right.
“Marcus?” Jack said.
“Yeah?”
“Go away.” Jack didn’t raise his voice. He’d barely even changed his tone, but Marcus knew him well enough to be able to tell when he wasn’t messing around.
A few seconds of silence passed, during which the other dominant no doubt drained the last of his drink, then Jack heard Marcus leave the chair next to him.
His friend clapped him on the shoulder on the way past. “Fair enough, mate. Have fun!”
“I’ll take that as my cue to get my shift started,” Dan said, with a wry chuckle. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
For a few seconds, Jack was aware of Marcus and Dan speaking to each other as they walked away. Then, they were gone, fading from his consciousness as if they’d never existed.
Jack wasn’t exactly left alone with the sub. The room remained crowded. The boy was still attracting a hell of a lot of interest from anyone with eyes and a clear line of sight. But the men around them ceased to matter as Jack focused in on the submissive and gave all his attention to the scene the boy was apparently offering to conduct with him.
“Straighten up. Keep your hands behind your back.”
The boy obeyed. He sat back on his heels and squared his shoulders, but his head stayed bowed, his gaze remained lowered. Even now it wasn’t clear what the glint of mental hanging from his lips actually was.
“Look up. Look at me,” Jack ordered.
For a few seconds the boy seemed confused by the simple order. It took far too long for him to obey it. By the time their gazes finally met, Jack was frowning. Those pretty green eyes quickly mellowed his mood, so did seeing the keys hanging from the ring held between the boy’s lips.
Jack’s mouth twisted once more into a somewhat lopsided smile. Perhaps a man was allowed to be a little nervous about making that kind of offering to a complete stranger.
Jack placed his hand just below the submissive’s chin. “Drop.”
The boy parted his lips far enough to release the keys. They fell neatly into Jack’s palm, and he quickly wrapped his fingers around them. He had no doubt the keys would fit the locks on the submissive’s wrists and ankles perfectly. There was an extra one that he recognised as a key to one of the club’s lockers.
“Good boy,” he murmured.
The sub smiled in response, before quickly schooling his features into what he seemed to believe was an appropriately blank expression for a submissive.
Leaning back comfortably in his chair, Jack twisted the key ring between his fingers—the boy had marked each key to indicate which padlock it corresponded to. LW—left wrist, RA—right ankle, and so on. It was a nice touch.
As he watched the boy become increasingly nervous under his gaze, Jack considered his options. “Name?” he finally asked.
That same confused hesitation delayed proceedings for several seconds. “Whatever you want it to be, sir?” the boy hazarded.
Jack chuckled. “A line more suited to a rent boy than a sub. Do you intend to present me with a bill at the end of the night?”
The boy shook his head rapidly, his eyes opening wide at the very idea. It shouldn’t have been possible for a man kneeling naked in a kink club to look that innocent.
“So, stop playing games. Answer the question,” Jack ordered.
“Ricky, um… Patrick Douglas, sir.”
Jack nodded his acceptance of the name, and Ricky’s preference for having it shortened.
The boy seemed to relax a little.
“Is this your first time in this club, Ricky?”
Ricky nodded.
“In any club like this?”
He nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
He really did have the most beautiful green eyes. Jack looked down and ran his gaze slowly over Ricky’s body one more time. The rest of him was pretty gorgeous too.
“Your safe word is Red. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack wondered if he did. Any boy who seemed more confident about his knowledge of kinky conventions than he was about his own name might be capable of believing anything.
“Bloody hell!”
Jack Bowen looked up as he heard the exclamation, knowing that anything that could raise an eyebrow in the Spread Eagle had to be worth seeing. Craning his neck, he lifted himself slightly out of one of the low, leather armchairs arranged near the back of the club’s main bar room, and peered through the leather-clad press of people.
Finally, a guy wearing a set of well-worn chaps stepped to the right. Another man wearing a top to toe leather body suit moved to the left. A boy came into view.
Short spiky brown hair. Big green eyes. Nice lean lines of muscle. Not more than twenty-three, maybe twenty-four years old.
Some strangely detached and analytical part of Jack’s brain noted all those particulars and filed them underjust my type. But most of Jack was far too preoccupied with the fact the boy was stark bollock naked to immediately take in anything else.
As the young man continued to make his way slowly through the crowd, Jack gradually registered other details, like the way the boy was blushing very prettily for his audience. Jack smiled slightly to himself. It was possible the boy was carrying out some sort of Valentine’s bet, but it seemed more likely that one of the doms who enjoyed humiliation was making a prospective submissive jump through a few hoops for his entertainment.
The boy had black leather cuffs separately padlocked around each of his wrists and ankles. The restraints begged someone to fasten them together and render him completely and gloriously helpless. There was no collar though…and any man who let a submissive who looked like this boy wander through the Spread Eagle without a clear sign of ownership wrapped around his neck was damn near asking for the boy to be snatched from beneath his nose.
The sub came closer. Jack let his eyes drift up and down his body. The sub’s cock was slightly hard, but he was nowhere near enthusiastic enough about his predicament to be marked out as an exhibitionist. If the fresh cut on his crotch, right where his skin creased between his leg and his groin, was anything to go by, he wasn’t very experienced at shaving anything other than his face either.
There wasn’t a hair to be seen anywhere below the boy’s neck. If it really had been his first attempt to follow a command to shave himself clean, he’d done a bloody good job. Jack glanced at the cut again—a literally bloody one. Jack smiled more broadly.
Whoever the boy was subbing to was one lucky sod and obviously destined to have a far more enjoyable Valentine’s night than Jack was.
Silent, bare footsteps brought the boy closer still. Jack straightened in his seat as the submissive glanced in his direction and turned toward him. It didn’t seem to be just wishful thinking that hinted he was the boy’s destination…
There were doms sitting in armchairs either side of Jack. Marcus Tremayne sat to his left—but the boy couldn’t be going to him. Sub or not, Bret would have Marcus’ balls if he screwed around on him. Dan Jacobs sat on Jack’s other side, and even though he didn’t currently have a sub, he was due to work behind the bar that night, and he never played when he was working a shift.
It seemed reasonable to assume that--
Yes. As Jack watched, completely entranced, the boy stopped directly in front of him and lowered himself to his knees.
Jack was just able to glimpse a flash of metal near the boy’s lips before the submissive placed his hands behind his back, bent at the waist, and leaned forward until his forehead touched the floor between Jack’s leather boots.
Habit made Jack reach up to push his hair back out of his eyes as he looked down at him, but of course, there were no shaggy, blond strands hanging forward into his eyes that night. It was all trapped under that bloody stupid baseball cap.
Jack dropped his hand back to the arm of his chair, barely able to waste more than a second wishing he’d never taken on that stupid bet with Marcus’ brat in the first place. But, seriously, who could have expected Bret to stay silent for an entire hour?
“I think he likes you.” The words came from Jack’s right.
“Marcus?” Jack said.
“Yeah?”
“Go away.” Jack didn’t raise his voice. He’d barely even changed his tone, but Marcus knew him well enough to be able to tell when he wasn’t messing around.
A few seconds of silence passed, during which the other dominant no doubt drained the last of his drink, then Jack heard Marcus leave the chair next to him.
His friend clapped him on the shoulder on the way past. “Fair enough, mate. Have fun!”
“I’ll take that as my cue to get my shift started,” Dan said, with a wry chuckle. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
For a few seconds, Jack was aware of Marcus and Dan speaking to each other as they walked away. Then, they were gone, fading from his consciousness as if they’d never existed.
Jack wasn’t exactly left alone with the sub. The room remained crowded. The boy was still attracting a hell of a lot of interest from anyone with eyes and a clear line of sight. But the men around them ceased to matter as Jack focused in on the submissive and gave all his attention to the scene the boy was apparently offering to conduct with him.
“Straighten up. Keep your hands behind your back.”
The boy obeyed. He sat back on his heels and squared his shoulders, but his head stayed bowed, his gaze remained lowered. Even now it wasn’t clear what the glint of mental hanging from his lips actually was.
“Look up. Look at me,” Jack ordered.
For a few seconds the boy seemed confused by the simple order. It took far too long for him to obey it. By the time their gazes finally met, Jack was frowning. Those pretty green eyes quickly mellowed his mood, so did seeing the keys hanging from the ring held between the boy’s lips.
Jack’s mouth twisted once more into a somewhat lopsided smile. Perhaps a man was allowed to be a little nervous about making that kind of offering to a complete stranger.
Jack placed his hand just below the submissive’s chin. “Drop.”
The boy parted his lips far enough to release the keys. They fell neatly into Jack’s palm, and he quickly wrapped his fingers around them. He had no doubt the keys would fit the locks on the submissive’s wrists and ankles perfectly. There was an extra one that he recognised as a key to one of the club’s lockers.
“Good boy,” he murmured.
The sub smiled in response, before quickly schooling his features into what he seemed to believe was an appropriately blank expression for a submissive.
Leaning back comfortably in his chair, Jack twisted the key ring between his fingers—the boy had marked each key to indicate which padlock it corresponded to. LW—left wrist, RA—right ankle, and so on. It was a nice touch.
As he watched the boy become increasingly nervous under his gaze, Jack considered his options. “Name?” he finally asked.
That same confused hesitation delayed proceedings for several seconds. “Whatever you want it to be, sir?” the boy hazarded.
Jack chuckled. “A line more suited to a rent boy than a sub. Do you intend to present me with a bill at the end of the night?”
The boy shook his head rapidly, his eyes opening wide at the very idea. It shouldn’t have been possible for a man kneeling naked in a kink club to look that innocent.
“So, stop playing games. Answer the question,” Jack ordered.
“Ricky, um… Patrick Douglas, sir.”
Jack nodded his acceptance of the name, and Ricky’s preference for having it shortened.
The boy seemed to relax a little.
“Is this your first time in this club, Ricky?”
Ricky nodded.
“In any club like this?”
He nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
He really did have the most beautiful green eyes. Jack looked down and ran his gaze slowly over Ricky’s body one more time. The rest of him was pretty gorgeous too.
“Your safe word is Red. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack wondered if he did. Any boy who seemed more confident about his knowledge of kinky conventions than he was about his own name might be capable of believing anything.