DOMINATION - the second title in the LEATHER MASTERS and slaves series, continues the tale of Tarquin Charlton and Paul Everest. In fact, this book starts exactly from where the first novel ended. As before, the story is told by our two main characters, in alternating chapters.
SUBMISSION - the first title in the LEATHER MASTERS and slaves series is set primarily in the Los Angeles area of Southern California. It laid out a journey of sexual discovery for two men whose lives became increasingly intertwined.
Tarquin Charlton's sexual training began at Yale where he learned to become a Dominant. Moving to Los Angeles as an entertainment lawyer, he started training and owning his own slaves. He was accepted into The Circle of Six, a powerful but discreet group of Leather Masters who helped one another professionally and sexually.
Paul Everest arrived in Los Angeles as an almost innocent student, who stumbled through several submissive relationships, until he was 'taken up' by Tarquin. The relationship that developed was strict, powerful, and binding. Paul found himself in love with his Master. Real problems arose when Tarquin's own human feelings were seriously aroused. According to his rulebook, Masters did not fall in love with their slaves. Their relationship fractured violently, causing Paul to strike out on his own, eventually to assert himself as a Dom.
Two years have passed. The two men meet again by chance and must decide what they truly mean to one another.
CHAPTER ONE - PAUL
"Sir, I want to be with you. I want to be your slave, your boy. Sir, please collar me and train me as you want, Sir."
I stared in amazement at my former Master, Tarquin Charlton, who was kneeling in front of me, naked and soaked by the steadily falling rain. I shuddered with mixed emotions, as he remained in position at the entrance to the bondage tent. I stood there, startled by this sudden change of our relationship.
Here I was with my own boys, in the enormous grounds of the BDSM run near Chicago. I was warm enough in my leather breeches and black Dehner boots. My heavy leather, studded, harness surrounded my large brown nipples, which I'd left pierced with the old thick 4-gauge metal rings.
"Sir, I am serious. I need to become your slave, to give myself completely into your hands." Tarquin sounded typically impatient. He was a man used to having his own way.
I shook my head. It wouldn't do for Paul Everest to show he was not every bit as good a Top as the man from whom he'd learned it all, whose slave I'd been for more than three years.
I thought I'd grown to love Tarquin Charlton, the man and his demands, both sexual and intellectual, his imposing manner and his elegant life-style. Hell, I was nearly as tall as his 6' 2", almost as well built as he [after all that time I'd spent exercising]. I was certainly as well-endowed [we'd measured each other's cocks once, 7.5" each, his thicker than mine] and I was nearly ten years younger.
Well, I couldn't just stand there staring at him.
"Tim, Bruno, get over here and take hold of our latest candidate who is begging for boy slavery. You better dry him off first. Then, I want him got ready for fucking. He'll need to be clipped and shaved. Leave his head to me. When he's ready, fasten him in the sling. I want a vibrating dildo in him. I don't think he's ever been penetrated. If he has, it's so long ago his ass has forgotten what it feels like."
I was proud of the progress I'd made myself over the past twenty months, having made up my mind to "graduate" from bottom to Top. I practiced all the moves that I had observed from each of my previous Masters.
Soon, I found myself training not one, but two boys. To me, they were 'boys' rather than 'slaves', since I couldn't keep either with me 24/7. I had my profession, in graphics design, to rebuild.
Tim had come to me through my pal Walt, who had moved up from barman to manager to owner of the LA leather bar I frequented. The boy was tall, blond, and lanky; he came with experience. I trained him further, with a combination of heavy stick and juicy reward. I didn't feel that his heart was really into servitude. Bruno, on the other hand, was a natural. He was dark, compact, intense. He wore his piercings with pride. The tusk he wore through his septum was not an everyday sight in Los Angeles.
My boys were well trained. I'd been well schooled by my previous Master and passed on the lessons when I moved into Topping. They pulled the bedraggled Tarquin inside and rapidly rubbed his muscular frame dry. He looked almost as good as he had the time we'd lived together - fit, bronzed, with that blond Aryan coloring and those strange dark eyes.
Oh, I'd talked to him briefly that afternoon at the run, telling my former Master to stay away from me. That was our first conversation since the terrible night in Palm Springs two years before, when he'd tried to break me on that wretched St. Andrew's cross. I'd finally left him with Joe, the half-trained sub he'd brought into our lives, and I'd fled back to Los Angeles.
After that first taste of freedom, I'd felt betrayed, lost, heart-broken, and lonely. I had been in my late-twenties when Tarquin had selected me for training. His training had been harsh and relentless; still, over our three years, I had evolved into a faithful, healthy, and responsive slave. It was he who'd smashed our relationship. Now almost two years later, he wanted back into my life -- in a much different capacity.
"Have you got him well restrained in the sling, Tim?" I called over to the older of my boys. "Watch how you use the clippers on his bush, Bruno, he's never been shaved, I'm sure. I want his chest shaved smooth for me too."
I looked over at my one-time Master lying passively in restraints. I remembered his powerful domination for a moment, but shook the thought away. "How are you guys doing?" I was ready to move forward with, what I told myself, was nobody but a needy candidate,
"Sir, I've trimmed all the hair around his cock and balls and I've almost finished the follow-up shave. Man, you were right, sir," Bruno added. "All that blond hair, he really has never been shaved there before. Great bod too. Who is he, Sir?"
"Just someone I used to know very well. It seems he now wants to become one of my boys. What about the dildo, Tim? Is he riding it?"
"Sir, yes, sir. Sir is right about a narrow passage. I could hardly get two fingers up there at first. I really had to work to get him opened up, He didn't seem to know what to do. His ass hasn't been used in years, if ever. From the way he reacts, he doesn't seem to have much anal experience. I lubed him up good and he's got that medium rubber vibrator, with the wide base up him and I've got it turned up high. He's wriggling good." Tim boasted.
"OK." I was ready to proceed. "Get a gag and hood on him."
Tarquin had said nothing more. He just lay there, leather restraints on arms and legs stretching him in the black sling and those big obsidian eyes gazing at me. What was he thinking? What had led to this outrageous request, so out of character? I told him to stay away from me in no uncertain terms, earlier in the day. What really had brought him back now?
His cock and balls looked magnificent. They were now standing out naked and aroused. The precum was already evident. He had the physical potential to make a terrific mature slave. All those years of working out with trainers. Was that what he really wanted? His body was trembling slightly in his restraints, as the vibrator twisted in his narrow chute, but his face showed little or no emotion. That was why he was so successful as an entertainment lawyer.
Why should I still feel intimidated by him? Not only was I doing well as a Top; my professional career as a graphic artist had taken off as well. Some of my designs had been picked up by an international advertising agency. They invited me to New York. There was a European client who apparently liked my style. Now there was talk of a possible London trip.
A year ago, my boy Tim had helped me to rehab a fixer-upper house that we found in Pasadena. Whatever he lacked in servitude qualities, he more than made up with his carpentry and cabinet-making skills.
All had seemed well in my world. As reward, I was treating the three of us to this long weekend of BDSM in the country. I'd already enjoyed putting Bruno through his paces. He willingly subjected himself to being stretched tightly to the wheel and dragged through a few inches of water, naked and wearing chains, which linked his tit rings to his excited and pulsating prick. I allowed him to cum while mounted on the wheel. Afterwards, he knelt at my booted feet, slobbering over my old Wescos and up onto my own protruding pole. It had been a relaxing and enjoyable afternoon until the weather turned stormy. It was then that Tarquin appeared, asking to revive our old relationship.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts, as I walked out to the front of the tent. There were still plenty of sounds of celebration and muffled cries of pain around us.
"Tim, Bruno," I turned around to look at the deserving boys. "Why don't you take off for an hour or so. Go and find some other subs to play with. The rain seems to have stopped."
"Yes, thank you, sir." Bruno hesitated, "Do you still need some help with this new one?"
"What the fuck do you think he's going to do all tied up and hooded?" I am sure I came off as annoyed at his question. "If I can manage you two, I think I can fuck this piece of raw meat without your help."
"Thank you, boss." Chastised, Bruno had his head lowered toward the ground, "We'll see you back at the cabin."
Off they scampered in their leather jocks, collars and work boots, pleased to be let loose for a couple of hours. I turned back to my former Master. There he was, lying silent and starkly exposed in my sling. His naked and shaved body shone in the faint light. My dick began to rise and thump in anticipation.
"Tarquin? boy? What the fuck should I call you? I don't know why you're doing this, or what you want from me. I'm sure you know what to expect. You taught me that the first thing a Top must do to his property is to thoroughly fuck him, to imprint him as soon as possible with my own semen. So, I'm going to turn up the dildo in your ass and force it in further. Then we can get down to basics."
I shoved the rubber plug in further, and I heard a groan slide round the gag. My cock loved it. It grew harder as I moved the dildo, slowly in and out.
As I stood over him, I put my hands on his shoulders. An electric current passed through me and him. The feeling caused me to shiver. All the boy could do was groan. I let my fingers trail down his massive chest, now without the attractive blonde thatch, that had covered it. His skin felt like silk; his body vibrated like a finely tuned instrument. Slowly, oh so slowly, I moved down, trembling with excitement as we both panted. A sheen of sweat began to cover him.
Suddenly, I realized what was happening. This was the first time I'd ever touched Tarquin in this way. All those years he'd been the one who played with me. It was his hands that had roamed over my naked and expectant body, marking it for himself. Now it was my turn. I felt the warmth of his flesh and the beating of his heart. I turned off the vibrator and eased it out of his ass. My own prong now pointed and thrust towards his open hole.
Then I stopped, stopped still. I was hardly breathing. One hand held his balls while the other massaged my own weapon.
I couldn't move. I just stood there, struggling to confirm my mastery over him. I lusted for him. I wanted to penetrate and humiliate the man who had once owned me. I just could not bring myself to perform the act. Not here in this open place, and not under these conditions.
Fuck it, what was this power which he still held over me? He wanted to become my boy. He'd pleaded with me and I wanted to take him, or so I thought. But something, perhaps my brain or my spirit, wouldn't let me fuck him in that public sling, in that tent with other people, at that time. Taking him this way would ruin what I still believed we had once been to each other.
"I'm going to turn you loose." First, I removed the gag. Then came the hood and the restraints. "We are going back to my cabin. This isn't the place or time."
"Sir, whatever you wish, sir. I want to be yours. All I want is to become your property, sir."
I untied the cords of the hood. I untied the leather restraints binding him into the sling. My bewildered cock sank down, confused by my actions. I cuffed Tarquin, to keep him under control, although it hardly seemed necessary. Every time I touched him, a spark ran through us.
A loud cough and a booted foot banging on the floor of the tent interrupted us. I swung around to face Dr. Lancelot, one of the closest friends of my Master/my slave, and the man who'd apparently persuaded him to come on the run.
"Evening, men, I just thought I'd come and see how you were doing? Tarquin, your slave Rob, is worried about you. He found your clothes in your cabin and asked me to try to locate you. But it looks as though things have kind of changed around here. I'm glad to see you again, Paul, but what's going on?"
"Hello doctor." I replied, "It's been a while since I saw you. Tarquin came over and asked me to take him as my slave. At least, I think that's what he wants."
"What the hell's brought this on, Tarquin?" The doctor seemed bewildered.
"I told you, Lance," Tarquin quietly responded, "Seeing Paul today made me realize that I want to be with him always. If the only way I can achieve that is by becoming his slave, then so be it."
"Paul," The doctor continued, "I talked to Tarquin about some of this earlier. I told him he really needs to think this thing through and not rush into action. Both of you are in danger of allowing labels and custom to dictate your future. You need to decide what you mean to each other. You don't have to assume roles just because that seems to be accepted BDSM practice."
"But, Lance, how can I be with Paul any other way?" Tarquin pleaded.
The doctor tried again, "You've got to work that out for yourselves. Tarquin, don't give in to an impulse that could wreck the rest of your lives. The only people who really matter are the pair of you. Make up your own minds, together." After nodding to me, Launcelot said goodnight to Tarquin, "Well, I am going back to reassure Rob. I am not certain what I should tell him. Tarquin, what do you want me to say to him?"
Tarquin left the decision totally up to his friend. "Lance, I don't know, or care at present. Would you see him safely back to LA and tell him he's free, please?"
"Then I'll leave you two to work it out. Just think carefully and take your time." Lance turned to leave, then hesitated, looking back, he reassured his friends, "I'm available anytime either of you wants to come and talk to me in the future."
"Thanks, Doc, don't worry. I do take care of my boys, even a newbie," I think I was reassuring myself as much as I was the doctor.
I stood with one arm gripping Tarquin, as the doctor disappeared into the darkness. My new slave/my former Master shuddered as I took him by his erecting cock and pulled him out of the sling and away from the tent to my cabin. With his wrists cuffed behind him, Tarquin had no option but to obey.
It was quiet in the cabin. My two boys were still away. I grabbed my new trainee and kissed him deeply. He responded, slowly at first, but soon our tongues began to roam in and out of our cold mouths. He relaxed against me. His tall, newly-nude body pressed into me, as we remained lip-locked for several more minutes.
What was I going to do with this former master and new slave trainee? Was he really prepared to give up everything, including his freedom and control, to be with me? His thrusting cock suggested that the answer was 'yes'. He was definitely excited and eager. So, I decided to put his willingness to the test.
My boys had put up the portable sling in the cabin. I unlocked Tarquin's restraints and pushed him down on the leather seat. He readily raised his hands and spread his bare feet. This was a position he knew well, but from the opposite side of the sling. I clipped his wrist restraints above his head and thrust his ankles into the stirrups. Not wanting those obsidian eyes watching me, I forced a hood over his head, smoothing the black leather across his face and zipping the eyeholes closed. Soon a penis gag would be forced into his mouth, so I left the mouth hole open for the moment, to see how he reacted.
Then I added more lube and shoved a bigger vibrating dildo up his tight asshole; the trainee grunted and wriggled as he felt the intruder.
"Settle down, boy." I commanded, "You told me you wanted this, and I know you'll want it hard. So that's what I'll be giving you. We will warm you up with some nipple torture. Now I get to play with those big brown tits of yours."
I started gently, just flicking the rosy tips with my fingernails and he snorted in response. I suddenly remembered how much noise Tarquin liked to make in his sex play. 'Shit, he'd have to be trained to quiet down', I thought. I ran my hand over the rest of that broad chest, now shaved and smooth. Then I swept back to pull on his tits, squeezing their expanding points between my thumb and index finger. He hissed between his teeth; I increased the pressure, pulling them out and stretching the brown nubs as far as I could. His grunts got louder, so I placed the penis gag in his mouth and zipped the hood's mouth hole closed. He'd have only himself to hear his noise.
I reached over for the butterfly clamps that I always kept at hand. Taking a firm grip of the left nipple, I closed the clamp over it. The body in the sling bucked and bounced. He'd definitely not expected that, nor did he expect the clamping of the right one. I pulled on the connecting chain to make sure they were well seated and watched him writhe. His torso stretched and strained at first, then settled down to absorb the pain. I wanted him alert, energized, but off-balance. I turned up the vibrating dildo for a few minutes. My former master's large denuded prick was rising splendidly, in response. I batted it a couple of times. He would cum when I was ready and not before. Sweat began to streak his body, which was visibly responding to his ordeal in the sling.
"Right, boy, it's time to breed you." With my words, he stiffened. "Yes, I'm going to breed you. No rubber for you. My seed up your cunt for this first time to make you my property, just like you, when you so fiercely made me your property. That's what you say a slave needs, and that's just what you'll get. Hold on, while I remove the dildo and lube us both again. Then you'll feel the real thing."
I could feel Tarquin quivering as I pulled out the thick plug, and then inserted two lubed fingers to explore his hole. I remember hearing somewhere that my former Master had been fucked a few times in his college days, at Yale, and then later during his initiation into the infamous Circle of Six in LA. All of that was years ago. Now his passage was tight, as my fingers moved towards his sphincter muscle. He was panting now. The light cover of sweat spread over his freshly shaved body. Here was a sexual animal, ripe for plundering.
"You look fucking hot lying here, Tarquin. You're a prime piece of beef, spread out, watching and wanting. My cock likes the feel of you, as I slide up and down between your ass cheeks. Yes, you're well warmed now."
As I took ready aim at his winking cunt and began pushing my cock-head into him, he became suddenly still.
"It's been a long time since you've had a pole in you, hasn't it? Don't worry, I'll take it easy this first time. Breathe out. I seem to remember you telling me that a few years ago." I let him feel my delight in this first fuck.
I grasped the chains of the sling as I forced my cock, inch by inch, enjoying the pleasure of penetrating the man I had always wanted. I will admit, I never, ever thought I would have him this way. Slowly he yielded his ass to my demanding dick. He'd slid on the leather sling, until the restraints held him tight. I pushed on. Both of us now breathing heavily and sweating on one another.
"That's it, boy; take all of it. Remember, you wanted me to be your new Master. Push back. Come on, you can do better than that. It may have been a long while, but I know you've had a cock or two up there before. Come on. Bear down. I'm sliding in my last few inches. Yes, I'm in you all the way.
"OK boy, let's dance!"
I slid in and out. His muscles and moans told me that he wanted all of me to remain.
"Don't groan like that. I won't leave you completely empty. Now I swing you fully back onto my penis. Feel me piling into you again. Yes, I'm sure it still hurts a little at this stage; it sure as hell feels good to me. Let's get some momentum going."
I guided the sling, with the panting, sweating torso imprisoned in the restraints on and off my rigid dick. He was beginning to get into the rhythm. All those times as a Top had taught him how to pleasure himself and the boy he was working. Now, the positions were reversed. He was in need of practice. I could tell he would become a good fuck, with work.
In and out, up and down, our dance became fast and furious, as our bodies worked together. I pistoned him with increasing brutality. In return, his ass muscles began to respond to my demands. My boots pounded the cabin floor. I thrust harder and heavier, forcing the pace. I rammed him relentlessly, fucked him fiercely, snarling and spitting, sweating and dripping, as I rode him home. He was taking all I was demanding. He now pushed down as I speared up. We were now twin beasts in red-hot sex heat.
I felt my balls tighten and my juices rise. Suddenly, I was breeding him. I made my old Master into my new slave. My cum spewed up his cunt. He was mine now, mine to do with as I liked. I could train him; I could torment him; I could force him into the mold I wanted; more than that, I could once again love him.
I lay over this new slave, with my dick still inside him. I looked at the hooded, nude body, with its swollen penis waving helplessly in the air. I reached over to massage its shaft. Almost immediately, he came. His jism shot up in a fountain of spray onto his stomach, as he bucked and twisted in the pleasure of his orgasm.
It was over all too soon. My cock slid back out of him; drops of my cum followed, dripping onto the towel underneath. I wiped myself clean on the damp cloth on the rail. There would be time for cock-cleaning training later. My own shaft curled back up into its nest in my breeches.
I worked over him, untying the laces of the hood. The leather gag was gripped firmly between his teeth. I stripped the damp, black leather off his head. His face was flushed and wet with sweat. He blinked in the brightness of the light. I pulled out the gag as we stared at one another.
He looked like a man who'd just received a wonderful present. "Thank you, Sir, oh, thank you. Your new slave thanks you for breeding him, Sir."
Yet, even as I stood there looking down on him, even after so forceful a first fuck, I knew that I had not mastered him. He might like to think so or want to believe it; but at best, I had won a temporary victory.
Did I really want to win this war? Could I remake Tarquin into a slave molded to my choosing? Was that what each of us was reaching for? Or was there something else we both needed and wanted, yet couldn't name?