“Don’t twist too much in the saddle, boy, or Goldie’s gonna sidle off and drop you on the ground like a sorry sack of potatoes.”
Jake’s amused scolding made Noah purse his lips, irritated. Jake would have said the same had Noah sat firmly on the saddle of a stationary motorcycle instead of a galloping horse, the way he was now. So in the end Noah simply scoffed, pushed his glasses higher, and moved off.
Golden Apple, Noah’s own chestnut gelding—named so for Noah’s surname, Appleton—whinnied and side-stepped. Alarmed, Noah gripped the pommel hard, then the horn, in a desperate attempt to regain his balance while the horse went where it willed.
Jake’s chuckle sounded close-by. “Warned you.”
Having finally managed to readjust in the saddle, Noah mumbled, “Hate you…”
“What was that, boy?” Jake’s typically sweet tone had taken a darker edge. His Dom voice, powerful and commanding, stemmed from deep within him.
Noah swallowed hard, nervous and sweating. “Nothing. Sir.”
“Follow me.” Jake urged his own horse, a pale-white stallion named Hard Snow, into a gallop, heading across the meadow toward the ranch house. The big blond cowboy with his straw cowboy hat, blue jeans, a gray T-shirt, and blue denim jacket looked delectable, bouncing his firm, round, jeans-clad buttocks in the saddle, guiding his mount with ease. Poison, the pitch-black Great Dane, followed him silently, as if skulking with its head down.
Quickly, Noah trailed after his partner, like a good little sub he was. Jake Harding was one of his Doms, holding Noah’s heart with his mastery of him. And from his tone it was clear there was a discipline session ahead of him. Slave to his original sin again, Noah had mouthed off. Soon Jake would make sure his mouth was busy doing other things. Dirty, slutty, racy things…
When he cantered to the front yard, skipping the fence instead of jumping over it like Jake had done, a beaten, weathered truck drove in, sending pebbles flying and dust billowing as it skidded to an abrupt halt. For an instant the dust cloud even veiled the sign over the road that said High Stakes Ranch, mark of ownership thanks to a successful poker game.
A tall, lean, muscular guy with spiked black hair, pale skin, and black leather pants and jacket stepped out of the car, carrying a brown grocery bag under one arm and a huge maroon-colored box under the other. Poison came over, sniffing, and Michael rubbed his flank.
“Hey, Noah,” the man called out, with one of his rare smiles gracing his lips. This was Michael Rawlins, Noah’s other Dom, a bad boy biker with a dark past and gruff habits, but with a heart of gold. Together Jake and Michael owned a garage, Hard & Raw Repairs, on the outskirts of town, catering to vehicle maintenance ranging from motorcycles to trucks and tractors. “Gimme a hand, will you?”
“He can’t,” Jake interjected from the double doors to the stables, his tone clipped. “The boy’s been mouthing off again. I’m gonna give him a training lesson.”
Michael grunted with displeasure and gave Noah a glare, which could be for not being able to aid him or due to the misbehavior itself. “Fuck. I have a present for him.”
Noah’s eyes widened with bubbly anticipation as he cautiously jumped down from his horse. “A present? For me?”
Michael’s gray eyes flashed like steel in the sun. “What was that, boy?”
Sometimes Noah forgot how similar his Doms were. He ducked his head, appearing as apologetic as he felt. He never meant to upset his masters. He did forget himself sometimes, how he spoke out of turn, how excited he got to live the life he had always dreamed of but never dared to pursue. “Forgive me, sir. I should have remembered your title. I’m sorry, sir.”
From under his lashes Noah saw Michael and Jake exchange glances. “Training comes before play,” Michael said, handing over the reins to Jake.
“Nah.” Jake shook his head, shrugging. “It wasn’t a bad transgression. And to be fair, I was needling him first.”
“Still…” Michael turned to face Noah, who stood rigidly in place, waiting for his orders. “Hard training first, raw present later.” He grinned as he said it. No way was the gift raw meat, Noah surmised, which meant it was a play on words.
My own Hard and Raw.
Torn with anticipation, Noah knew in his heart both options would give him equal amounts of pleasure and pain, amusement and torment. He bit his bottom lip anxiously and adjusted his glasses that were perched precariously on the tip of his nose after the ride. His fingers played with the titanium slave collar around his neck, a sign of permanent ownership by his Hard & Raw. The weight was heavy, but carrying it made his heart lighter.
But his Doms were right. Business before pleasure.
A soft thud sounded when the suede tails made contact with Noah’s skin. With every strike Jake increased the strength a hint. Not once did Noah stop him, verbally or otherwise. His perfectly round buttocks bounced and reddened with the blows.
At around the tenth strike, Noah started to make noise. Tiny whimpers at first but soon they became sharper, louder, more breathless, more wanton. A couple of yeses and mores sounded, showing Jake how into it Noah was.
Jake grinned as he carried on. He had prayed Noah would savor the sensations of the flogger, the suede ensuring a softer touch than leather. Jake wasn’t as experienced with floggers as he was with whips and canes, but he was getting a handle on things. The short flogger was easy to use, and the results—his beautiful sub enraptured and pleading for more—could not be argued with.
“Oh, master, yesss!” Noah murmured, his tone husky. “God, so good. Please, don’t stop.” His grip on the desk was white-knuckled, a near death grip, but this time out of desire.
Jake stopped, letting his hand fall to his side, the flogger swinging idle. “Do you want more, slave?”
Noah nodded frantically. “Yes, please.”
Closing the gap between them, Jake was able to caress Noah’s buttocks. The skin was red and fiery hot. Noah whimpered slightly and shivered at the touch. Jake assessed the condition of his slave. No serious injuries, no permanent damage. He would have to apply cooling, healing salve on Noah’s ass cheeks when they were done, but that moment was far away yet.
Then he brought his hand up and with his palm spanked both cheeks hard.
Noah cried out, cringing away from the sudden sharper pain. “Oh, God!”
Jake slapped the other cheek as well, and again Noah leaned forward, trying to move out of reach. “Stay still, slave,” he commanded. He wasn’t going to dole out more spankings with his hands. The flogger was enough. But he did mean to remind Noah that though this was a new and positive experience, Noah was still being punished.
Immediately Noah stilled, gulping audibly. “Y–yes, s–sir. S–sorry, s–sir.”
Noah had gone back to using “sir” instead of “master.” That worried Jake a lot because it suggested Noah was no longer in the scene. “Noah? Are you okay? You want to stop?”
Shaking his head, Noah croaked, “No, sir. I’m fine, sir, I swear. Just a little…light-headed, I guess. Green, sir.” Then he seemed to realize his faux pas. “I mean master.”
“Remember, you can always call a halt to this, Noah,” Jake reminded, still concerned. Noah wasn’t fragile, but he was squeamish about some of the tougher, hard-core aspects of BDSM. His previous lover had been the complete opposite of the word lover, caring only about himself and teaching Noah to endure things no one should have to.
“Yes, master.” Noah sounded more confident again. It appeared the pause had done him good.
Stepping back and raising the flogger once more, Jake continued his ministrations soft and a bit harder, taking turns in showering his young buck with lavish attention and slightly rougher handling, one thwack after another.
After ten more swipes, he halted again and moved about, checking his handiwork and Noah. The boy hung his head, his hair mussed, his skin sweaty, his muscles strained, and his chest heaving. His cock was like a steel pipe, though, and leaking, too.
Nodding to himself, Jake saw Noah’s legs were trembling. He couldn’t take much more without collapsing. The punishment had not been severe but it was a new sensation, bringing Noah toward heights of pleasure and pain he had not yet experienced.
“Five more, slave. This time you will count them for me.”
Noah’s voice was ragged and dry. “Y–yes, m–master.” Jake flogged Noah again, slow and steady, soft and sweet, ending the session in a caress. “One. Two. Three. Four.” After the final thud landed on his deep-red butt, Noah sobbed the last word. “Five.” He was about to keel over.
Jake set the flogger aside and then removed his shirt and unzipped his pants. Making quick work of readying himself, Jake lathered his own thick dick with lube, stepped closer to Noah, and began sliding his slick cock up and down Noah’s crack. Noah quivered and moaned, pushing back against the big cock. With deft, careful fingers, Jake made sure Noah was open. Only then did he shove his cockhead inside.
“More, master,” Noah pleaded. “All of it, master.”
Unsure who was punishing who, Jake thrust his dick in to the hilt. Noah groaned at the exact same time as Jake did. Gathering his beautiful boy closer, Jake wound his arms around Noah’s waist and chest, bringing them chest-to-back. Jake had to stop briefly to collect himself. Noah’s hot, tight channel gripped him, and it was home. Jake’s prick throbbed to the point of pain.
“Oh Lordy, how good you feel, love,” Jake whispered in Noah’s ear. The endearment seemed to loosen Noah up since his inner muscles quaked and then let go of Jake’s shaft, giving Jake the chance to start moving again. Yet, he had to remain mindful in not pushing too roughly against Noah’s punished skin, which felt burning hot against his abdomen.
After only a few darts in and out, Jake was losing control, his strokes hard, deep, and fast. Noah was muttering something under his breath, encouragements or curses, Jake couldn’t hear with the blood roaring in his ears. Whatever it was, it was clear they were both dancing on the edge of delight.
Noah bucked back with every one of Jake’s thrusts. His glasses fell off, clattering to the hard floor. But their rhythms were in perfect sync. Jake didn’t want to stop but his groin was enflamed, his body aching with the need to release, and Noah felt so good around him and in his arms. Noah belonged there, with him, to them, to Jake and Michael, forever.