SUBMISSION */is the bold erotic tale of two men from different worlds whose lives become intertwined in the BDSM Leather world of today's Los Angeles.
Tarquin is a natural Master, who has learned to demand sexual services from slaves he trained. Paul has evolved into the ideal submissive at the hands of demanding Dominants.
Their testing ground is the Circle of Six, a tight-knit group of Leathermen with common sex needs and slaves. At different times, both run the Circle's violent and painful gauntlet and bond further as a result.
With bondage and branding, hoods and floggers, Tarquin molds Paul into the slave he requires, and Paul falls in love with him. But what happens when the Old Guard Master's real emotions are aroused?
This title is a reissue.
Chapter One - Paul
“Here, take these. I’m through with them.”
I flung the thick leather posture collar and the knotted flogger onto the metallic counter of the office in the gay motel where we’d been staying in Palm Springs. I stormed out of the door, not caring what the owners or anyone thought.
But I was free, I thought. Paul Everest was suddenly free to go wherever he wanted. True, I had only the clothes I stood in and very little money, but I had the keys to the car, and I’d leave him behind.
The first question: where would I go? Over the past three years I had become used to having decisions made for me. I had been taught to obey and serve – and it had been a thorough and rough training. It was hard to believe I would actually leave the Master to whom I had given so much time and effort.
I suffered at his hands, but still I had grown to love him. He had taught me to need his hard cock thrusting into my asshole regularly. He had trained me to endure regular floggings in tight bondage in exchange for being held by his warm muscled body, caressed, kissed and wanted. He had made me into his willing and accomplished slave over the years, although there was no such thing as real slavery. Then, in one night, seemingly out of nowhere, he had destroyed it all.
I’d had more than enough and was going back to Los Angeles to try to find my lost former life. As I drove his car back from the desert that morning, my mind went back to the day we first met so casually, an event that now seemed like a former life, rather than just over three years ago.
It had all started on a fresh spring Sunday afternoon in Los Angeles, and I needed a break from the graphics I’d been working on over the weekend. It was a special design project from the office, and it certainly would help to pay the rent. Still, I was more than interested when my work buddy Peter called me on my cell.
“Hi. What’re you doing?”
“Nothing much, trying to get this job finished. Why?”
“Well, I’ve got two invitations to this fund raiser in Silverlake. Should be lots of leather and hot bodies galore. So, get your chaps and harness on, and I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
“Oh, I dunno, Peter. I need to keep working.”
“Hey, a couple of hours off will relax your mind, and you never know who might pick you up there. Plenty of heavy hitters, I’m told.”
“Okay, but only for a short tour around. Hey, I can get to show off my new chaps, but I guess I’d better cover my ass, if it’s an upscale affair.”
I didn’t really know Peter all that well. In the small graphic design business we both worked in, he’d stood out — only five feet and seven inches, but well-toned muscles, gay with a strong leather fetish, too. We rarely talked about his private life, but we’d gone cruising once or twice in the leather bars in Silverlake. He’d been fun and we’d enjoyed being bottoms or submissives together.
The fundraiser was being held in a restored house in the Craftsman style, well preserved and manicured. There was even a valet service for Peter’s Taurus and my spirits lifted. We waved our invitations and looked around. The main swirl of activity was in the garden area, and the sun felt warm on my chest. I paraded around, showing off my muscles and my covered bubble butt.
I was in good shape for a twenty-eight-year-old, nearly six feet with curly brown hair and long legs encased in tight, black leather chaps, underchaps and boots, with a studded harness to emphasize my pecs. I knew I was hot, but I was getting tired of doing tricks and finding relationships that failed or petered out for one reason or another, partly my fault.
Peter agreed to separate for our initial cruise. I circulated slowly around the garden, drink in hand, greeting the few people I knew and getting some admiring glances. There was no one in sight I wanted to go home with. I noticed there was a steady stream of men wandering in and out of the adjoining rooms, so I went in search of fresh meat.
The living room had a high cathedral ceiling and dark blue walls; the lighting filtered through the shades on the tall windows and the atmosphere was quieter, but charged with energy. At one end of the room, a group of four men were talking together intently. They were four mature Leathermen in breeches and boots. The light reflected off the common silver emblem on their Muir caps. Strength radiated out from them. These were the power brokers of the event, the Dominants. They seemed to be relaxed and enjoying themselves. I realized, as I crossed to the bar, that they were keeping a casual eye on the new arrivals, and the guests eyed them surreptitiously in return. I knew enough not to go up and interrupt their conversation, but I hoped at least one of them would pay attention to me.