By His Rules
“Then Daddy’d take your shorts down, put you over his knee, and give you a good old-fashioned spanking. You’d listen to Daddy then, wouldn’t you?”
“Mmm. Yes, Sir.” Aiden Cole tried to signal the bartender for another gin and soda, making it too obvious he was only half listening to Daddy.
He’d seen Daddy around here before and had always felt privately grateful that the heavyset, bearded top never approached him -- until tonight.
The last ten minutes had confirmed Aiden’s suspicion that Daddy was not particularly interesting or arousing. Still, Obey didn’t hold many prospects on a Monday night, and Aiden didn’t want to cast off the possibility of spending tonight in short pants, squalling theatrically while Daddy blistered his ass with what was -- Aiden had to admit -- an impressively meaty palm.
Daddy-boy play freaked Aiden out a little. He’d done two schoolboy scenes last week, but this little-boy shit was a different ball game. Daddy was talking as though he might require some thumb-sucking of Aiden -- not the kind of sucking Aiden liked to do.
Still, Aiden prided himself on his willingness to try just about any scene. He had hard limits -- blood, needles, scat, rape -- but one thing he loved about BDSM play was the opportunity to take on new characters. Naughty Boy Scout, palace slave, trembling virgin, high-school slut…Aiden had played them all. It wasn’t exactly the acting career he’d had in mind when he graduated with honors from State University’s theater program last year. He’d expected to be in New York or Chicago by now, and he would be if he’d had the money. Aiden tried not to let it get him down. He knew a lot of people who took a gap year after graduation to travel, explore, and “find themselves” before settling down and starting a career. Aiden planned to spend this year discovering what he truly wanted.
He glanced around the bar. A man sat alone at a table in the corner. Surprisingly handsome -- how had Aiden missed him before? He was in his thirties, with thick, light brown hair, wire-framed glasses, and eyes that, even from a distance, suggested warmth and good humor. His nose was perfectly straight, his lips full and his jaw smooth and well-defined. Juxtaposed with this almost delicate beauty was a firm masculinity. He didn’t look like someone you’d want to tangle with. Aiden could imagine those eyes going from warm to -- not cruel, not angry, but distinctly disapproving. Aiden got the sense that a disapproving look was all this man needed to cow an opponent.
The man caught Aiden’s eye and smiled briefly. The smile wasn’t an invitation -- the man quickly turned back to the notebook he’d been writing in. Who writes in a leather bar? Aiden watched him take a sip of his drink. Something clear. Vodka? Gin? Water?
Aiden was so intrigued and exasperated by the man’s eccentricity that he almost wanted to sit down across from him and start flirting up a storm, force the man to stop writing. Buy him a whiskey. Get him buzzed and hard…
“Out of your league,” Daddy said.
Aiden whirled. “What are you talking about?”
“Keaton Hughes. He’s out of your league.”
Aiden laughed. “No one’s out of my league.”
“All right, true enough. But if anyone was, it’d be Keaton.”
“He’s not that hot.”
“Hot don’t make the top, honey.” Daddy gestured to his own short, fleshy body. “Case in point. No, it’s not his looks -- though he is quite striking. It’s something else. He’s not your typical top. Seen him in here once or twice. Never takes anyone home. Never plays in the basement.”
“But you’ve met him?” For the first time that evening, Aiden was interested in what Daddy had to say.
“Yeah, nice guy. I’m just not sure what he wants. Maybe he’s not sure either. Maybe that’s why he’s here.”
Keaton didn’t look like a man who was unsure about anything. He was still writing in his notebook. He looked up, and his gaze caught Aiden’s once more, for just a second. The faintest smile appeared on his face as he returned to his writing.
Aiden stood. Whatever Keaton Hughes wanted, Aiden could give him. “Excuse me,” he said to Daddy. He’d barely taken a step toward the corner when he felt the energy shift in the club. He turned and saw something that made his heart wobble and collapse.
In full regalia -- black chaps, thick leather straps crossing his broad chest at the gleaming steel ring between his perfect pecs. He wore thick-soled boots that Aiden knew he made his subs polish with their tongues, and kept a quirt tucked casually in his waistband. Aiden’s ass clenched at the memory of how much that thing stung. Even Aiden, renowned in the leather community for his ability to give head, hadn’t lived up to Scott’s demands when they’d played in Obey’s basement dungeon last month. Scott hadn’t hesitated to pop Aiden’s ass with that quirt whenever he was dissatisfied with Aiden’s performance.
Aiden forgot everything, even Keaton Hughes. He crossed the room as though pulled by a giant magnet, eyes down, until he stood inches from the enormous pair of boots. He watched Scott’s weight shift from one foot to the other, and he swallowed. He willed himself not to look Scott in the eye.
Difficult, since Scott had gorgeous eyes -- electric blue, holding a promise of excitement and danger. Aiden shivered at the memory of the first time he’d failed to obey an order from Scott, and Scott had said in a quiet, deadly voice, “Look at me.” Aiden had somehow forced his gaze to meet Scott’s and, in an instant, saw the pleasure Scott took from being in control, from seeing Aiden tremble, from preparing to make Aiden hurt.
You didn’t look Scott Runge in the eye unless you were ordered to. And if you were ordered to, it was pretty much a guarantee you were in trouble.
“Hello, Sir,” Aiden said softly, not sure if Scott would hear him over the music.
There was no reply, and Aiden thought for sure Scott hadn’t heard him or was purposely ignoring him. Suddenly a large, warm hand closed over the back of Aiden’s neck. Fingers threaded through his hair.
“What a pretty boy.” Scott’s voice rumbled. He tilted Aiden’s chin up. “I remember you. You’re the one who can’t suck cock worth a damn.”
Hot fury rose in Aiden. Scott would be hard-pressed to find a top here who agreed with him. Aiden prided himself on his ability to suck dick, and it devastated him that Scott Runge, of all people, didn’t appreciate his talents. “Yes, Sir,” he murmured.
“Back for round two, huh?”
How the taunt in Scott’s voice could seem so alluring was beyond Aiden.
“Think you can please me this time?”
“I’d like to try, Sir,” Aiden said, lowering his head again, aware of Scott’s fingers still in his hair.
Scott yanked, and Aiden gasped. His head shot up, and he saw that more than a few people were watching. He wondered fleetingly if Keaton Hughes was among the spectators.
“What do you think, boys?” Scott asked the crowd. “Think I should give this pretty kid one more chance to please me?”
Agreeable laughter and light applause met his question. Someone yelled, “Do it right here!”
The grip on Aiden’s hair was too tight to allow any movement.
“What do you think, boy?” Scott growled in his ear. “You coming home with me tonight?”
“Yes, Sir,” Aiden said. It was nothing like the vague, obligatory “yes, Sir” he’d given Daddy moments ago. He meant this one with everything in him.
The crowd parted to let them through. Scott steered Aiden by the hair, stopping at the coat check to put on a long jacket. It physically hurt Aiden to see the leather straps of Scott’s harness disappear under the coat.
Outside of the club, the night air was cool and soothed some of the heat from Aiden’s cheeks and groin. Scott eased his grip on Aiden’s hair, probably afraid some vanilla would see them and call the cops. He guided Aiden across the street to the parking lot with a hand on Aiden’s neck. Aiden half wanted to stop walking and just lean into that touch.
“I don’t know what I want to do to you first,” Scott remarked casually. “Fuck you or beat you.” He hit a button on his key chain and his car blinked to life. Scott opened the passenger door and shoved Aiden inside. “You’ve got a great ass. I remember that. I can’t wait to turn it red.”
Aiden’s breath caught. Black and blue was more like it, if their last session was anything to go by. Scott was rough, rougher than any top Aiden had ever played with. But that was part of Scott’s allure. The rush of fear the man inspired went straight to Aiden’s groin.
They drove for a few minutes in silence. Aiden noted how empty the streets were, how agonizing it was to wait at red lights when there was no one else at the intersection. Red lights. Everything was red. Scott’s car, the industrial haze of the night sky, Aiden’s cheeks as he thought about what lay in store…
Scott said, “I suppose I could tie you up, arms above your head, and make you drink a fuck ton of water. Then you’d have to hold your piss while I fucked you raw.”
Aiden gulped. He already had to go -- bad. And if Scott made him drink water…
“What do you think, boy?” Scott demanded.
“Um, I -- whatever would please you, Sir.”
“You don’t have an opinion on holding your piss while I fuck you?”
“I, um -- no, Sir.” What was up with all the um-ing? Pull it together, Cole.
“If you went in your pants, know what I’d do? I’d make you take those pants off and put them over your head, so you couldn’t breathe anything but your own filth. Then I’d bend you over the bed and take my belt to your wet little ass until you squealed.”
God. Foul as the image was, it brought his cock shooting up, making him even more painfully aware of his full bladder.
“What do you think of that? I’d probably whack your little dick a couple of times too.”
Aiden couldn’t help himself. He moaned, running a hand over the front of his pants.
Scott glanced at him. “Touch yourself, slut. Go on. I’m watching.”
When Aiden hesitated, Scott reached over and placed a hand on his thigh. Aiden let out a shuddering breath as the warm weight of Scott’s hand traveled slowly up, finally passing over the bulge in the front of his jeans. Scott’s fingers played with the bulge, wiggling it like a loose tooth. Aiden tipped his head back, arched his back, and jutted his pelvis forward to give Scott easier access.
Suddenly Scott smacked the inside of Aiden’s thigh with the back of his hand. Aiden yelped and started to clamp his legs shut, but Scott grabbed his knee and thrust it to the side, forcing his legs open again.
The car swerved, and Scott straightened it out again one-handed. He whacked the inside of Aiden’s other thigh. “I said touch yourself.” Scott alternated smacks on Aiden’s inner thighs, his hand coming dangerously close to Aiden’s crotch as Aiden fought to keep his legs open. Aiden began to whimper in time with the blows, jerking and rolling in his seat as he tried to get Scott’s hand to graze his cock or balls.
Scott laughed. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun tonight.”
Aiden rubbed himself through his jeans, the sting from Scott’s slaps still crawling up and down his thighs. He put his head back on the seat rest and tried to stretch his legs out. He had to piss bad, and the sensation of being full and desperate was turning him on. Fuck, everything was turning him on right now.
“Jerk yourself, slut,” Scott ordered.
Arousal ripped through Aiden at the sharpness of Scott’s voice, at the word “slut,” and he tried his best to tug his dick through the denim.
“Stop,” Scott said as they pulled into the driveway of a one-story, brown brick house. “You won’t touch yourself again tonight without my permission. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” Aiden tried to hide his frustration. He would give anything to keep touching himself right now. Or better yet, to have Scott touch him…
Scott got out. Aiden reached for his door handle and stopped. Scott was probably one of those tops who didn’t want a sub to do anything without permission. Scott came around and opened Aiden’s door. He reached in and grabbed Aiden’s right nipple through his tight gray tee. Aiden bit back a cry as Scott pulled him out of the car and led him by his tit up the driveway and onto the front porch, where he took hold of both of Aiden’s nipples, rolling and squeezing them. Aiden closed his eyes.
“You like that? You’re into pain, I remember. A little pain slut.”
Aiden tolerated pain better than a lot of subs he knew, but it was the mindfuck he was really into. And Scott knew how to mess with a sub’s mind as well as his body, knew ways of establishing unequivocal control that no sub would dare doubt or resist.
“Mmn.” His tits hurt like nothing else, and his heart butted up against his chest.
Scott released him to unlock the door, then sent Aiden into the dark hallway with a swat to his rear. Scott turned on the light. The house was clean and tidy. Framed photos on the wall depicted decidedly nondeviant scenes -- a barn covered in snow, a waterwheel, a duck hunt.
Aiden didn’t have too much time to dwell on decor. He was shepherded into the kitchen and ordered to stand in the center of the room while Scott fetched a beer and a bottled water from the fridge. Scott opened his beer on the table’s edge and sat down. He swigged his beer, watching Aiden.
“Strip,” he said quietly.
Aiden pulled off his T-shirt and then undid his jeans, sliding them to the floor. He tried to step out of them, but his left leg got caught in the bunched denim and he floundered until he was able to reach down and untangle himself. He hesitated at the waistband of his briefs. There was something terrifying yet wickedly hot about the idea of standing naked in this quiet room, with Scott’s gaze on him.
“What are you waiting for?”
Aiden flushed and removed his underwear. He held on to his clothes, not sure if Scott wanted him to fold them and place them somewhere.
“Drop them,” Scott ordered. “Hands behind your head.”
Aiden dropped the clothes and clasped his hands behind his head, utterly exposed. His cock strained upward, as red as he imagined his face must be, its web of veins visibly pulsing. He felt Scott look him up and down, and struggled to keep his gaze on the floor. He knew he had a hot body, slim and well-proportioned with softly defined muscles and pale, smooth skin.
“Nice enough,” Scott muttered.
Aiden felt a flash of resentment. Nice enough? You couldn’t find a better-looking sub at Obey, unless you really had a thing for barely legal blond supertwinks.
“You’re too thin. Could do with some bulking up. Pretty hips. And I like your hair. What’s that color called -- like a reddish brown?” Scott snapped his fingers. “Chestnut. Like a horse.”
Aiden tried not to let it bother him that Scott was sitting there appraising him as though he were an animal. He reminded himself that every minute Scott spent assessing him was a minute Scott didn’t spend torturing him.
“Turn around,” Scott said. “Let me see your ass.”
“Nice. Small but well-shaped. Needs some color, but I’ll fix that.” He stood and approached.
Aiden jumped as Scott placed a hand on his butt.
“Think I’ll have a hard time stuffing my cock up that tight little ass?”
“No, Sir. I mean, I’ll take it.”
Despite how hard the conversation was making Aiden, there was something ridiculous about it too. He didn’t like when tops talked about their monster dicks or how Aiden’d better take them to the hilt without whining. He liked the psychological aspect of BDSM play, but there were always parts of any scene that felt so…fake.
Aiden’s cock bobbed against his belly, and he wished to God Scott would touch him. As if reading his mind, Scott said, “You should know your dick doesn’t concern me in the least. Your ass and mouth are what I care about. I’m going to use you however I like, all night, and I could give a shit if you squirt or not. Face me.”
Scott’s dark eyes glittered, and Aiden swallowed on a wave of arousal.
“What’s your safe word?”
“Mushroom,” Aiden said.
Scott laughed. “Mushroom.” He grabbed the water bottle from the table and uncapped it. “Sit down.” He took a seat himself and handed Aiden the water. “Drink that. And tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” Aiden asked. “Sir?”
“What’s your name, where’re you from, what are your hobbies…shit like that.”
Aiden took a nervous swig of water. This was different from the scenarios he was used to. Because Scott was different from most tops. Most tops were like Daddy -- they drooled over Aiden like a prize, could hardly wait to get him through the door before they were on him, pawing, yanking, panting…as though if they didn’t claim him right away, he might disappear. They often wanted to kiss Aiden or pet him, make him feel good so that he’d want to come home with them again. That wasn’t what Aiden was after. He wanted a true top, in control and insecurity-free. He wanted to feel owned, used, and utterly debased.
“My name’s Aiden,” he began.
“Shithead,” Scott said.
“Your name’s Shithead.” Scott said it as though he was correcting a minor grammatical error in Aiden’s speech.
“Oh,” Aiden said uncertainly. “Okay.”
“While you’re here, your name’s Shithead. Drink that water.”
Aiden took a few gulps.
“Where’re you from, Shithead?”
“Tremont? It’s about fifteen minutes north of here.” Aiden drank until a little less than half the bottle remained.
“What do you do?” Scott asked.
“I work at a restaurant right now. But I studied theater in college. I think I --”
Scott snorted into his beer. “That’s why you’re so popular.”
Aiden tilted his head, not sure what Scott meant.
“I’ve heard about you. You do it all. Choirboy, army recruit, rent boy, slave… That must be why you’re so good at role-play. You’re an actor.”
Aiden wasn’t sure whether Scott was mocking him or complimenting him, so he kept quiet and drank the rest of the water, ignoring his bladder’s protest.
Scott got another bottle from the fridge and put it in front of him.
“So let’s get your story straight,” Scott said. “Your name’s Shithead. You crawled out of my asshole for the sole purpose of serving me. Your hobbies are sucking my cock, taking my cock up your ass, and screaming while I strap your butt raw. Got it?”
In spite of the water, Aiden’s throat went dry. “Yes, Sir,” he managed.
“Good.” Scott reached out and stroked Aiden’s jaw with one finger. “Come on. Let’s tack you up.”
Scott took Aiden by the arm and pulled him from the kitchen down a narrow hall. They stopped at the last room on the right. Scott pushed open the door, flipped on the light, and led Aiden through the bedroom and into the attached bathroom. He spun Aiden so Aiden stood in the doorway, facing the bedroom.
Aiden heard Scott open a cabinet in the bathroom behind him, and a minute later a thick collar was placed around his neck and fastened snugly. It was so wide Aiden could barely move his head. Two ropes with steel clips hung from either side of the doorway, and Scott snapped the ropes to rings on either side of the collar so that Aiden was cross-tied like a horse. Maybe “tack you up” hadn’t been a metaphor.
Scott went back to the cabinet and then reached around Aiden with what looked like a long, narrow cage with a ring at the base. Aiden knew it was a chastity device for his cock, and the idea of being blue balled with a full bladder sent a wave of desperation through him.
He gasped as Scott gripped the base of his cock and began working him. “Oh yeah,” Aiden breathed, riding Scott’s hand. “You’re making me so hot. Please let me come for you, Sir…” He doubled over in shock and agony as Scott slapped his upright dick with an open palm. Only the cross-ties kept him from dropping to his knees. “Ow!” he shouted. “Fuck…”
Scott smacked his ass once, twice, three times, so hard that Aiden’s eyes watered. “Nice try, slut. Behave, or I’ll land you another one on that twitchy dick of yours.” He fitted the cock cage over Aiden’s dick and secured it.
Scott pressed on the area just above Aiden’s groin. Aiden winced and drew back, his body bumping against Scott’s. Scott pushed harder.
“Need to piss?” Scott asked in Aiden’s ear.
“Yes, Sir,” Aiden whispered.
Scott backed away, and Aiden heard him take something out of a box. Aiden battled the urge to ask Scott what he was doing. Scott ordered him to bend forward and stick his ass out. Aiden did, heart thudding. A second later, something cold nudged his entrance.
“What is it?” Aiden asked before he could stop himself.
Scott reached around and held the object in front of Aiden. It was a well-lubed butt plug. Medium-sized -- not too intimidating, except for the device attached to the plug’s base. It looked like four burrs strung together on a flexible wire -- four small, bristly spheres. The burr chain arced out from the plug’s base, then bent back in so that it ran parallel to the plug. Scott let Aiden study it for a few seconds; then his hand disappeared, and Aiden felt the tip of the plug seeking his entrance once more.
Scott spread Aiden’s cheeks wide and teased his opening with the plug’s narrow end, fucking him with the tip until Aiden finally let out the breath he’d been holding and relaxed enough that Scott could slide the plug inside him. It was always strange to adjust to a plug, and Aiden shifted, trying to get comfortable. Then Scott spread his cheeks once more and positioned the flexible burr chain along his crack and against the soft skin between his asshole and balls.
When Aiden moved, the burr chain scraped and pricked his crack and taint. He danced for a moment in the cross-ties, trying to contain the sensation. The burrs ended right at the back of his balls, and the pain each time his balls nudged the bristles was maddening. To make matters worse, Scott slipped a black mask over his eyes. With his sight gone, it was impossible not to concentrate on the itchy pain between his legs.
Scott ducked under one of the cross ties and stood in front of Aiden. Aiden could smell the beer on Scott’s breath. Scott didn’t say anything, just stroked Aiden’s cheek for a moment, and Aiden was suddenly as frightened and frustrated as he could ever remember being. He had to piss, his dick was caged, the skin between his legs was being cruelly pricked and stung by the burr chain, the collar was too tight, and he couldn’t see. And here was Scott, obviously loving his pain, reveling in his helplessness.
His tears flowed from under the blindfold and Aiden tried to move a hand to his face to stop them before Scott saw, but Scott caught his wrist and placed Aiden’s arm back at his side. Scott cupped the back of Aiden’s head, drawing him forward as much as the ties would allow, until Aiden’s face was pressed against the big man’s chest.
“I know,” Scott murmured. “It’s new. It hurts. But it’s exciting too. Isn’t it?”
Aiden, all his pride gone, sniffed hard and nodded. Scott’s heartbeat was slow and soothing, and Aiden liked the feeling of Scott’s hand in his hair, not pulling, just resting. He calmed suddenly. He could do this. He could do this for Scott.
Scott pulled away and unclipped the cross ties, then led him -- by the hand this time -- into the bedroom. “Kneel,” Scott ordered, and Aiden did, wincing at the horrible prickling between his legs.
He heard the creak of springs as Scott sat on the bed, the quick purr of a zipper undone. Scott’s fingers wound in his hair once more, pulling his head forward until Aiden’s searching mouth found Scott’s hard, bobbing cock.
Scott’s dick was thick and deliciously curved. Aiden put his lips around it and licked up the shaft, flicking his tongue against the head. He lapped at the long, swollen vein on the organ’s underside and swirled his tongue around and around his prize. He drew back and kissed the slit, then began pounding the small, sensitive opening with the tip of his tongue.
Scott’s fingers caught in his hair so fiercely and suddenly that Aiden moaned. Scott began to fuck Aiden’s mouth, grunting and slamming, making Aiden gag. He kneed Aiden in the jaw as he thrust, and he released Aiden’s hair only long enough to cuff the back of his head and order Aiden to take more of him. Aiden took the battering, determined not to lose focus. He sucked and swallowed around Scott’s cock, taking Scott deeper, deeper…
He was so lost in his performance that the sting of the quirt came as a surprise. The double leather thongs snapped against his naked ass, making him jump. Pain from the burr chain between his legs shot through him at the movement. Aiden swallowed a cry.
“The way you’re going, Shithead, I won’t come until Christmas,” Scott said.
Aiden sucked harder. The quirt stung his ass, his thighs, his hips and back until Aiden wanted to sob with frustration. He was hard and humiliated, frantic and tired. There was no pleasing Scott, who cursed him, called him names, and whipped him.
Finally Aiden deserted technique, forgot finesse, and attacked Scott’s cock as though it were the last source of nourishment on earth. He kissed, sucked, slurped, and used his hand to roll the heavy balls and stroke the soft skin behind them. He felt sloppy, unskilled, and overeager, but finally Scott tossed the quirt aside, grabbed Aiden’s hair in both hands, and shouted, “Yeah. Oh, yeah.”
Scott jerked and shot his cum down Aiden’s throat. Aiden didn’t stop teasing the head of Scott’s cock with his tongue, and Scott didn’t stop his long, slow thrusts down Aiden’s throat until long after he was emptied.
Scott pulled out. He yanked off Aiden’s blindfold and raked his fingers through Aiden’s hair, forcing Aiden to look up at him. He spit, the saliva landing just below Aiden’s right eye. Aiden flinched but made no move to wipe his face. Scott watched him. His expression was disdainful, but there was something else there. Admiration? Pride? “Into the bed, Shithead,” he said finally.
Copyright © January 2012 by J. A. Rock