A Good Master

by Callin Mockery

I lit some candles, knowing that he preferred it nearly dark – then I lit a few more, feeling a thrill of anticipation as I wondered what he would do with them. Perfect. Looking around the room, I thought that I had everything right. I’d spent forever deciding what to wear, before settling on jeans – just jeans – and a button-down shirt. He liked to be able to take my clothes off; tear them off, sometimes. The rest was just ease of access. Barefoot, I walked over to the door and unlocked it, debating whether or not I should ‘accidentally’ leave it open, then decided against it. All I needed was for the wrong person to come in; that could ruin everything. Glancing at the bureau, I saw that everything was there – including one special thing that I was going to purposely forget. This would be our first time together in months; I needed a way to put him completely in control. The rest could come later; right now, he would just need help getting over his initial discomfort, again. In many ways, I was lucky; when he was my Master, he was a good one. I’d had abusive lovers before, some who never entirely got out of the part. But Ryan was different.

Smiling to myself, I set the collar down on the nightstand, where I’d be able to reach it, later. He’d expect that of me. And then, to be sure that he knew I wasn’t wearing it, I undid the top two buttons of my shirt. Everything was perfect; now all I had to do, was wait.

And he didn’t keep me waiting long. I waited by the balcony doors as I heard him lock the door behind him – then I turned, and rushed into his arms; it was the one thing he wouldn’t deny me, if only because he couldn’t deny himself. I found it hard to breathe as he pulled me into a tight embrace; I let my head fall back as he kissed me deeply, his hot tongue pushing into my mouth. It was as if he wanted to devour me, and I was more than willing to let him.

Eventually, his hands worked their way to my open collar; he pulled back from me just slightly, staring down into my eyes. “You forgot something.” He said, a hint of steel coming into his voice. He put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me down to my knees. “Go and get it.”

I could feel his eyes on me as I crawled to the nightstand. Getting up on my knees again, I reached down and took the stiff leather between my teeth, then crawled back to him with the collar in my mouth. That had surprised and pleased him, I could tell by the look in his eyes. I held still as he buckled the collar around my throat; I hid my smile as I watched his face. This small action gave him away; he was careful to be sure that it wasn’t too tight, before he thought to check if it was tight enough for his own purposes.

“Get up.” He said thickly, stepping back, clearly fighting the urge to offer me a hand.

I made my second ‘mistake’ here, and didn’t keep my eyes on the floor. He shook his head at me, and gave me a bit of a shove backwards, to put me off balance – I let him. Another push had me standing in front of the bed; I could feel it against the back of my legs. He didn’t speak, just grabbed my shirt and ripped it open; the maid would probably find the buttons in the morning, and wonder.

“Take it off.” He growled at me, eyes already fixed somewhere below my face. As I did, I found myself hoping that he liked what he saw; I’d been working hard to get in shape. Apparently he did, because he gave a grunt of satisfaction and pushed me backwards, onto the bed. I think I cried out as I felt his hands fumbling with the button of my jeans; I know I arched my back so that he could pull them off of me more easily. He tapped the outside of my right thigh to tell me that I could pull my legs together again; then he climbed up onto the bed with me, straddling my body easily with his long legs. “Have you been good, or bad?”

“Which did you want me to be?” I whispered back, a little too flippantly. He chucked me under the chin lightly, trying to look disapproving.

“You’re going to have to learn how to behave, again.” He told me, then leaned down and kissed my lips with bruising force, before nipping at them lightly. It hurt a little, but I welcomed it. It took all my control not to press into him – that was part of what he meant, by behaving. But my eagerness didn’t go entirely un-noticed; I realized as much as he got off of the bed, and walked over to the bureau. When he turned around again, he had a pair of leather cuffs in his hands. “I can see that I’m going to have to take my time with you.” He said, walking back over. The cuffs hadn’t been linked together yet, and he used this to his advantage as he fixed them around my wrists. The he hesitated, and I knew he was debating whether to hook them together, to the collar, or use them to bind me to the bed. “Time for a little test.” He told me, pushing my hands down over my head. “Keep them there.” He ordered. He’d left them undone; I still had full use of both hands.

I shivered, caught between longing and dread – I loved it. Ryan made the unknown something forbidden and wonderful; I knew he’d never hurt me. I didn’t move at all as he stepped away from the bed, but I did try to watch him out of the corner of my eye. But he didn’t walk far this time, just turned to the nightstand. When he turned back to me, he held a long white taper in his hand. “Let’s see what kind of self control you have.” He whispered.

I couldn’t decide if he really wanted me to display any or not, and so decided to go with it. I found myself clenching my teeth as I tensed; with effort, I began to relax. It would only be worse if I was second-guessing-

-the first drop of hot wax fell onto my chest. I choked back a hiss; the pain lasted for only a second. It was followed by a second, and a third… in the small shower that followed, both nipples were coated. Pain was not the objective here, nor was my self-control, really – though I was proud that I hadn’t flinched away. He was smiling, slightly. “Spread your legs.” He said quietly.

I didn’t hesitate. I kept my eyes on the candle as he dripped it down my chest… onto my stomach… and then blew it out. I didn’t say anything, but I flicked my eyes back up to meet his own; he was smiling, which meant that I’d passed the true test – I trusted him. I didn’t resent the test, either. It was more of a security thing for himself, than anything to do with me. I kept my eyes on him as he took the edge of a fingernail, and began lightly scraping at the wax. He was teasing me now, intently working on the few drops that had fallen onto my stomach. My hands tightened into fists as I struggled to remain silent.

“Want something?” He asked casually.

I couldn’t answer, even if I’d wanted to.

“Maybe this?” He suggested, begin to very slowly pick at the wax covering my right nipple. The mingled sensation of pleasure and pain was too much; I couldn’t hold back a gasp. He smiled at me tolerantly, scratching a little harder – my mouth opened, but I didn’t let myself cry out – and then his mouth was covering mine, tongue probing deeply. Now I did moan, but the sound was swallowed up in his own. When he lifted his head again, I took a chance and spoke.

“Let me take your shirt off.” It was somewhere between a request and a demand.

In answer, he climbed onto the bed, carefully straddling my waist. He took my hands and placed them on his chest – immediately, I began undoing the buttons as quickly as I could. When I was done, he nodded, and so I pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and ran my hands over his chest. He wasn’t terribly hairy, but what was there was still a golden brown. Deftly, I started to reach for his nipples; he caught my hands in his own. “Oh no, not yet. I’m not done with you, yet.” His voice had taken on that too-slick tone; he’d used it when he played the boa constrictor. As if reading my thoughts, he flicked his tongue at me as leaned down within inches of my face, bracing his hands just above my shoulders. The temptation to sit up and try to catch him in my mouth… but just then, he shifted his weight backwards. I couldn’t help it; I groaned and arched into him. For a moment, he took pity on me, and leaned down against me, as if he were going to lay on top of me – I would have welcomed it. But in the next moment, he was sitting up again, leaving me aching for more. His attention had turned back to the wax that was still dotting my chest. He scratched a little harder now, impatient. When he finished the first side, my reward was to have his hot mouth close on my sensitive flesh. I know I cried out that time; denied so long, I couldn’t hold back. But if anything, he seemed pleased – maybe to know that he could still have that effect on me. He brought his teeth into play now, gently. My hands were back above my head again, and I clenched the pillow tightly. When he finished with the one side, he began anew on the other, teasing me until I was positively shaking.

His eyes met mine, and I saw the question there; true to the nature of our game, he chose not to ask it, but instead made it more of a statement. "I want to play." He said gruffly. I knew I had the option to refuse, the look in his eyes had assured me of that, but I had no reason to. Instead, I rolled over, mimicking sleep, as an invitation. He always liked to start like that, no matter what turn the play took. I remained still as I heard him moving around, and managed not to jump at the sudden touch on my ankle. Two more leather cuffs, and I began to guess at what he wanted.

One by one, he blew the candles out, then I heard a door open and shut. There was no telling if he'd left the room or not, or if he'd just gone into the bathroom. My mind began to drift as I waited, which was surely his intention. I tried to relax, to let myself fall asleep if I could. Sure, we're both actors after a fashion, but if I could give him the genuine article, I would.

It must have worked, because I was startled by a rough hand coming down on my mouth. Immediately, I began to put up something of a struggle, because it was expected of me. Of course, my efforts were useless.... He dragged me up into a kneeling position, and pulled a hood on over my head -- which came as no surprise. Ryan found that he had trouble staying in character if he could see me watching him. Once that was done, he pushed my hands behind my back, and 'managed' to link my wrists to my ankles. What came next surprised me; he fixed a spreader bar between my ankles. I was now completely open and vulnerable to him; blind and helpless. I loved it.

I waited for him to make his move, listening him walk back and forth in front of the bed. "He thinks you're so special." He growled finally, and I knew that he was referring to himself in third person. This was one of his favorite characters to use when we were just starting off, or any time that he wanted to play rough. I suspected that he was drawing off of someone real, possibly someone we both knew, but I never asked. I didn't need -- nor want -- to know. "Maybe he's right... maybe you are. But I'll find out for myself." His hand closed tightly on the back of my neck, and a moment later I felt his breath on my face, hot even through the heavy cloth. He used the grip he had on me to pull me forward just slightly, as he kissed me roughly. "Wait'll he finds out what I've done to you... the way I've used you...." He kept his left hand firmly on the back of my neck, as his right hand slowly came up the inside of my thigh. "Can't stop me." He taunted. "Can't do anything to save yourself at all." He had me in his hand then, a firm and relentless grip. I'd already been hard; this just served to make the tension almost unbearable. I couldn't help but move, and hastily disguised it as a struggle.

"Don't like that, do you?" He whispered. "It doesn't matter. This is about me. What I want, and what it'll do to him, to see his precious love used like a common tramp."

The words, though harsh, lacked venom. Still, I understood what he expected, and fought even harder. He let go of me for a moment, and I heard the sound of a zipper. The next moment, something hot and hard pressed against my lips. "Take it." He ordered me, threat implicit in his tone.

I'd been waiting for this, of course, but it wouldn't do to show him, and so I turned my head away. He caught hold of my jaw and turned my head back; I let him, while putting up the show that I would not. "Take it." He growled at me, thrusting forward at me, using his hands to make me do as he wished. This time, I let him, although I still gave no appearance of being willing.

After so long, I had to fight to relax my throat. Taking Ryan is nothing to be undertaken lightly -- he's a big man, in all respects. But desire won out over rusty instincts, and soon I had him shaking. His hands fell to my shoulders, clenching them tightly. For a moment, I'd made him forget the parts we were playing, and I took full advantage of the fact. It's not in my nature to tease, but this time I tried to take things as slowly as possible, to prolong the experience. His breath was coming in ragged gasps now, and I could imagine the way his head would be thrown back. And yet, just when he came to the brink, he pulled away, denying himself. He stepped back from me, although I could sense that he was standing just in front of me, probably looking at me. Composing himself, I reasoned -- he wasn't ready for the game to end.

"I'm not done with you." He said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're alone with me, Colin."

For some reason, the sound of my name almost startled me -- he very seldom used it, once he was inside of a role. Not I suspected him of pretending that I was someone else (though I truly would not have cared, if it made it easier for him in the beginning like this), but it was almost as if he wouldn't allow his characters that intimacy.

He laughed quietly then, apparently seeing me tense. "Did you think it would be over so quickly? Oh no... I won't give you up as easily as that." His left hand was on the back of my neck again, and he took me into his right again, this time teasing me. It took effort to shudder away from him, when all I wanted to do was fall into that touch, and be consumed by it. Ryan must have realized this, and reached a compromise -- the more I struggled, the more he gave me. And then his touch was suddenly withdrawn from me; the effort it took to show relief, instead of frustration!

"You're losing the battle." He whispered to me. "Admit it, you can't resist my touch. You want this. That's how much power I have over you."

I shook my head desperately, understanding the slight change in my part. From totally and truly resisting him, now my part was to fight him, all the while losing the battle with myself. As long as I didn't give in to him, I would still be abiding by the rules of the game.

"I can make you admit it." He told me, dropping his hands to my chest again. His touch was feather-light this time, gently stroking, focusing on nothing in particular. I let out a small whimper; partly for the part that I played, but also because it was incredibly frustrating. How I wanted him! But that was all right, now... I was supposed to.

"You see... I can be nice, when I want to be. I don't have to hurt you... I'm not even sure that I want to. Doesn't serve anything... he'll want to kill me for what I've done to you, already."

I tried to pull away from him at that, more token resistance for the game. He followed, and I felt his hands at my ankles. I shied away from him, only to feel a gentle tug -- Ryan, asking me not to. So I held still, as if I were afraid of what he might do, and to my surprise, found that he'd released my wrists from my ankles, and was now removing the spreader bar. Then he tapped my chest once, before pushing me backwards, knocking me flat onto my back. "Don't move." He growled at me. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will."

His presence vanished from the side of the bed, and I wondered if he was going to the dresser. There were still so many things there, that he hadn't touched yet. I heard the rattling of chain, and another noise that I couldn't identify. He didn't say anything as he approached, but his hands closed on my wrist. He linked the chain to the cuff there, and also to the cuff on my ankle, so that my knees were bent, while my feet were flat on the bed. I didn't attempt to struggle as he fixed the other side in the same way; I wanted it too badly. I had no idea what he had planned, nor how long he intended the game to run.

The sudden stroke of leather on my chest startled me, and I couldn't help but shiver. It was very seldom that he used the lash, and if asked, I would have admitted that it was not my favorite thing to endure. But I wouldn't argue, nor fight. If he wished to use it, he would. I trusted him not to hurt me.

"It doesn't have to come to this." He assured me, almost gently. "All you have to do, is give in to me. I'm not asking you to love me. Just let me fuck you."

The words were so calmly spoken that they gave me chills. If it had been anyone else... and even I had to remind myself that it was Ryan who was talking to me. I knew that the next step was mine to take. I could give in to him -- which wouldn't necessarily end the game, but would bring me a quicker satisfaction -- or I could continue to resist. This wasn't a test; he was simply giving me the power to make a decision of my own. And I didn't even have to think about it, to know what my answer would be. "Never." I told him.

"So, you'll stay loyal to him, even now." Ryan tried to make his voice scornful, but I could hear that he was pleased by my answer. "He's a lucky man," this was a compliment, "it's just too bad that you're not." I heard a faint pop, and a strange wheezing sound, barely audible. Then his hand was between my legs again, cold and slick. His fingers began to tease me, and I forced myself to try and relax. It wasn't as difficult as he expected; I wanted him too badly for any kind of resistance. Still, as he carefully worked a finger inside of me, I gasped. "You thought I wouldn't do it." He taunted. "This is nothing, compared what I'm going to do to you." Now he withdrew his finger almost all the way; then slid two back in, in its place. I groaned, shifting my weight to ease his entry. There was a certain amount of temptation to push forward against him, but that would put me completely out of the role that I'd given to myself. Hardly conscious of it, I shook my head, willing myself to stay focused.

"What's the matter, is it too good for you? Can't fight it?" He laughed quietly. "I'm nowhere near done with you... you'll take whatever I give you." Again, his fingers withdrew -- but this time, as he moved back in, I ffelt something hard and cold. I found myself holding my breath, and made myself release it, though with effort. As the cool slickness penetrated, I realized that it was one of the candles. It wasn't the same taper that he'd used earlier, I was certain. Even at their widest point, those were still quite narrow, no more than an inch across. This was thicker... one of the shorter dinner candles then, about two inches in thickness. Fiercely, I reminded myself that I'd known he might do this when I'd bought them... I'd felt confident enough then; how could I feel any less so now, at the hands of my lover? Though the fear, I felt a deep shame.

It took me a moment to realize that the candle had been withdrawn; now I recognized Ryan's hands at my wrists and ankles, and felt even worse. I could barely meet his eyes as he pulled the hood off of me. "I'm sorry." I whispered, hardly able to speak.

But Ryan shook his head. "No." He said quietly. "Too much, too soon. I'm the one who should be sorry." He walked around to the other side of the bed, and pulled off his jeans before pulling back the covers. I moved so he could better do so, and slid beneath them with him. To my surprise, he pulled me close, hugging me so tightly that I could hardly breathe.   Finally, he eased his grip a little bit, and looked at me. It was easier to meet his eyes, this time.

"You're... you're not...." I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"Angry? Disappointed? No. Just sorry."

"Don't be." I said, and I meant it. "I don't know why I...."

"Because it was too much, too soon." He repeated. He leaned forward and kissed me gently. "I can't believe you did all this for me... I guess I lost control, a little."

"No you didn't." I corrected. "Or you wouldn't have stopped."

"And I would have hurt you." Ryan completed. I'd never told him about some of the bad experiences that I'd had; either he guessed, or his understanding of how far I would let him go, was that good. "And I never want to do that." He murmured, kissing his way slowly down my neck. "Never."

I smiled at him, finally able to relax. He pushed the covers backwards off of us now, then covered my body with his own, balancing his weight carefully so as not to lean too heavily on me. He was kissing his way down my chest now, and I wanted him to pull him back up, but he would have none of it. "Close your eyes." He whispered to me, and I complied, knowing he would be more comfortable if I did so. His mouth closed around me a moment later, and the feeling was so intense that I could make no sound. My hands closed on the sheets -- he reached up with one hand, and moved one, then the other, to rest on his head. He gave a grunt of protest when I didn't cling to him with the same ferocity, so I mentally shrugged it off, and gave him what he wanted. It shouldn't have been that surprising; when we made love, he was always eager for me to hold tightly enough to him to leave scratches. The line between pleasure and pain is a thin one, and sometimes it blurs entirely -- as I was reminded when I came, and immediately rocketed over the edge into hypersensitivity. He worked me until I was soft in his mouth, then looked up at me with a glint in his eye. All the same, I knew he wouldn't do anything, without my approval.

"Yes." I told him, and was delighted by the pleasure in his eyes. How could I deny him?

"Does it matter...?"

"Any way you want." I assured him, and meant it. It had been so long, I hardly cared. I gave willingly as he put his hands underneath my thighs and pushed; once he'd entered me, I wrapped my legs tightly around him, even as I settled my hands on his back. He gave me a mock growl and increased the speed and force of his thrusts. Soon I was beyond all rational thought, and just clung tightly to him. We were as one creature; passion and energy and sex. He all but screamed when he came, and collapsed into my arms. I ran my hands through his hair, and pulled him up towards my face so that I could kiss his damp forehead.  He smiled at me before rolling off of me -- then got out of bed, and walked naked across the room to the air conditioner.  I smiled, watching him.  I knew what he was doing, of course.  When we slept together, Ryan liked the room to be as cold as possible; then he'd hold me close under the blankets.

I reached for him as he got back into bed; he wrapped an arm around me.  I doubted that I'd be able to sleep facing him, we were both more "spooners" than that, but for the moment I just wanted to look at him.  He looked back at me with sleepy green eyes, but I could see that something was on his mind.

"What?" I asked, when he remained silent.

"Just thinking about how much I need you." He touched a finger to my lips, before I could speak.  "Every time I'm with you again, I wonder how I could ever leave."

“Because you have another life." I said gently.  "We both do."  I prayed that he would not ask me if I would leave Deb, if he ever left Pat.  I knew that he wouldn't, not really, so it just became a painful question with no answer.

"But...?"

"You'll always have me, yes." I assured him.  "I need you, too."

"Really?"

I smiled; he knew the answer, but he craved the security that my confirmation would provide.  "Of course.  I don't think I could manage without you, Ryan."  It was the truth, and he knew it, because I'd sworn never to give him less.

"I love you." He told me.

"And I love you.  I always have... I always will."  I would never tell him that there was a kind of pain in this; because of the choices we had made, he would never be mine.  We both had regrets at times, albeit unspoken.  In the end, there was always this, and we'd learned to make it enough.

Ryan kissed me then, and again.  There was less hunger and desperation in him now, but like me, he could not get enough of the close contact.  The first taping was going to be interesting.  "You're tired." He murmured finally.

I nodded, not bothering to argue.  I knew he could read it in my eyes.

"Roll over, then.  So you can sleep." He added, unnecessarily.

I nodded and did as he suggested, snuggling backwards into his arms.  There is nothing in all the world quite like that feeling; knowing that I am totally safe, and wholly loved.  I know he understands me better than perhaps anyone, even my wife... and more important, I know that he trusts me to be able to do the same.  He is my best friend, an incredible lover, a fine master... and in these moments, he is the most important thing of all -- a good and true love.

End

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