All material on this site, except where otherwise explicitly stated, is copyright of the author known as Ann Somerville. All art, except where otherwise explicitly stated, is copyright of the artist known as Kiriko Moth

  Dishing it out

Copyright © 2006 Ann Somerville

“They shoulda cut you out of your mammy’s womb, boy, you fucking freak. Save us the trouble of hating on your spooky arse.”

Ren chooses to use ‘Politely tolerant smile no.3’ with just a smidgeon of ‘I’m three times smarter, better looking and taller than you, you little weevil-headed bastard’ on the tattooed, unshaven, drug-abusing waste of clean air sitting across from him in the interview room. I don’t really even need to look to know what expression he’s got on, or what he’ll say, which is, “I’ll be sure to pass that kind remark on, sir. Now, would you care to answer my question?” He’s only been working with me a year and I’ve got all his looks catalogued. And all his responses.

I could do the perp for discrimination, but Ren prefers to beat them into submission with impeccable manners. He’s most polite to the people who give him the worst crap. A lot of perps assume he’s stupid because he’s big and he smiles and tries not to show how frighteningly intelligent he is before he’s got his audience sized up. This one sure makes that mistake, and bares a mouthful of rotting teeth at us. “I ain’t gonna talk to no sissy spook. Law says I ain’t got ta. They ain’t gonna take your word for nothin’, ya freak.”

“Not exactly,” I say, leaning back in the chair. There’s nothing polite or tolerant in my smile. “The law says we can’t use Parg Rensire’s talents to prove you’re lying. So when Parg Rensire tells me, as he probably will as soon as we’re allowed to take a break and get away from that breath of yours –” I wave my hand with a rather delicate gesture to shift the putrid smell away from my nose, “ – shame how those drugs make your teeth crumble, don’t you think, Mas Kaeze – that he knows that you killed your brother and hid his body under the concrete floor of the new shed you built in your back yard, we can’t use that in evidence at all.” The colour drains out of Kaeze’s face. “But what we can use in evidence is the autopsy results which we’ll have as soon as we examine your brother’s body. Oh...you didn’t realise we’d found it, did you? That would be the reason you told his best friend Tozam wasn’t coming home again. You knew he was dead, didn’t you?” I lean forward. “Or are you a new talent? Parg Rensire, do you think it’s possible that Mas Kaeze could have escaped screening all these years and knows his brother’s dead because of his unsuspected telepathy?”

Ren shakes his head, his green eyes fixed the whole time on the perp. “No, Parg Dekan, I have to say that I think that’s unlikely. I think if Mas Kaeze knows his brother’s dead and where the body’s buried, then we have to assume that’s because he bashed his brains in and buried the body himself. Of course – my word’s not evidence,” he adds with ‘Innocent, guileless smile no.12’ – he’s got a lot of those.

The perp looks nervously over at the guard at the door. “I don’t have to talk ta these bastards. Law says. Get me outta here.”

I signal to the guard. “You heard the man. Take him to a nice comfortable cell. I’m sure the fact we have a building full of telepaths won’t hinder his rest at all.”

The perp gulps. He knows the rumours – that the judges secretly read the reports of telepaths about prisoners, and are influenced by EPs. It’s not true – we don’t need Ren’s talent to convict scum like him. Ren just makes it satisfying.

Ren doesn’t even look at me as the guy is taken away. Without saying a word, he gets up and heads to the break room. I only wait long enough to make sure the interview recording is properly sealed, make a call to our people on site, and then I go after him.

Ren likes to make out the idiocy and prejudice of the unwashed and moronic we see almost every day doesn’t bother him. I think mostly it’s true. But what he’s less good at, and he’s the first to admit it, is not letting the hate and the envy and the greed and the perversion get to him. After all, he has to experience it almost at first hand. Knowing the vicious, bigoted hate you’re feeling is directed at yourself, must be the biggest mindfuck in the world.

He hands me a mug of khevai without asking if I want one, then goes to a corner table and sits down, staring down at the drink. “Good guess about the shed,” he says, shaking the mug a little to watch the grains of spice swirl around at the bottom. “Or wasn’t it a guess?”

“Yes, it was, but there’s only so many places he could hide the body. I just called the team and told them to concentrate on that. We’d have found it eventually, but you speeded it up for us.”

He shakes his head, his barely regulation length hair swinging like some exotic veil across his face. “You did that. I’m just the smoke and mirrors.”

“Yeah, well, we need those too.” I keep staring at him until he lifts his head and meets my eyes. “Eight thirty, soldier,” I say quietly. We’re not alone by any means. I’m getting good at these conversations which don’t carry more than a midec past my shoulder.

The barest straightening of his back, the slightest lifting of the corner of his mouth. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t be late.” I take a swallow of khevai and frowned at the mug – it seems impossible, but the quality is getting worse. “I’m going to write that interview up, and then we should go to the site. Twenty minutes.”

He nods, a faint smile on his lips. “We’ve got a date, boss,” he says, weirdly beautiful eyes mocking me gently. I carefully don’t smile back. I don’t need to, with him.

He turns up at eight thirty on the dot. I’m never sure until he arrives which way he’ll play it. If he’s late, then he’s looking for a fight and a real beating, which I’m more than happy to give him. When he’s on time like this, he’s usually in submissive mode, wanting to be restrained with less pain, more domination. If he’s early – and that’s mostly after we’ve had a day too full of aggravation for either of us to concentrate – he wants vanilla. That’s usually pretty damn fine as well. We’ve been doing this nearly a year. I’ve got a lot to learn about him still, but it’s a challenge I’m happy to work on. He puts as much effort into me. It’s been a long time since sex has been such a shared pleasure for me. It makes up for the added stress of worrying we’ll be caught out. Stress, I can handle. He helps with that too.

He always cleans up before he comes over, dresses neatly, meticulously in fresh civvies – a courtesy I appreciate, and return, though I do have these fantasies of taking him down and dirty in the uniform because, damn, he looks good in black. I sometimes think our affair goes unnoticed because he’s got every female under the age of seventy (and a decent percentage of the men) at the station writing mental porn about him. Every head swivels towards him when he walks into a room. Sickening. Completely understandable.

I slowly look him up and down, check out the tight-fitting, oil-smooth leathers and his crisp white linen shirt whose high collar seems to emphasise the sharp blades of his cheek-bones and the angle of his eyes. He knows I like the effect, but his long lashes are lowered, his gaze demurely towards the floor, while he waits obediently for my instructions. I have a hard time deciding which is hotter – meek Ren or bolshy Ren. Right now, meek Ren is just what I want. I don’t even let him take his jacket off, or his shoes. “Hands behind you, boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

He quickly places them in the small of his back. I’ve got a short silk rope ready in my pocket, and now I tug off his riding gloves, stroke his big palms affectionately before I tie his wrists together – tight enough so he knows he’s bound, loose enough that if we get a call from the station, I can release him in a second. Red silk against his pale wrists seems almost as erotic as if he was standing here naked. It makes me want to bend and worry at them with my teeth, lick his tattoo and torment the tender skin between fingers, but I restrain myself. For now, at least.

“Kitchen,” I order, and he follows me. “Stand there. At ease, soldier, eyes on me.” I position him near the table, facing it.

“Yes, sir.”

He’s already half-hard, the black trousers tight across his crotch. I stand behind him, reach around his hip to cup and squeeze him, feeling his big cock through the leather. I take my time kneading and teasing until we’re both fully erect, and his fingers are starting to curl and uncurl a little in excitement. It’s always a struggle, once I get my hands on him, not to just bend him over and use him, especially knowing that if I did, he would love every second of it. I need to be patient, because it’ll be so much better in the end. These nights together aren’t just about getting off. Ren paints as a hobby – using his body is my art.

I walk around in front of him again, undo his belt and unzip the trousers, pull them and his underpants down a little so his cock is freed, but I don’t lower the trousers more than that, or touch him more than I need to. I tuck his shirt out of the way, open his jacket, and step back to admire the exposed flat belly, the tight curls and the treasure trail of fine, red gold hairs that lead all the way up to his navel. Many a night I’ve lingered along that path, licking, nipping gently, teasing his bellybutton with my tongue. Just the sight of it brings back warm memories. He’s watching every move I make, wondering what I’ll do.

I do what he’s not expecting. “Now you stay like that, boy. Stay hard.”

Beautifully trained, he doesn’t question me. “Yes, sir.”

But he wants to ask, I know. There’s the barest drawing together of fine eyebrows, the tiniest frown of confusion, which deepens when I say, “You don’t mind if I eat, do you? I’m hungry.”

“No, sir.” The ‘what the hell are you up to, Dek?’ is as clear as if he’d said it, even though he’s standing as obediently meek as before.

I don’t smile, and I doubt he can work out what I’m doing from my feelings. I ignore him as I get out the light meal I’ve prepared earlier – he usually eats before he comes over, something small and easily digested, and we don’t eat together on play nights, so what I’m doing now is new. It’s not often I get the jump on Ren. I like to prove to him that I can, when I put my mind to it.

His erection is still up – I wonder how many men could pull off looking this fantastic with their pants pulled down, their dick pointing to the ceiling. Of course, he’d look good covered in barchin shit with a stick of kurxe weed shoved up his backside. Right now, with the black leather and his white shirt framing his extraordinary red pubic hair and that thick, heavy cock of his, I wish I was skimming this. Wouldn’t really dare risk it, but I take a good long look, trying to burn the image on my brain. So many bad things in my world could be improved by a naked Ren taking their place.

I go over to the table, sit down facing him, turned side on so he can see me. I spread my legs, luxuriously ease my pants over my groin with a hand that lingers suggestively, invitingly. Let him see I’m aroused too, though I’m not paying him any obvious attention. I spear a piece of cooked vegetable, eat it slowly, lots of tongue and lip action, keeping my movements deliberate. His cock bobs a little.

“Did I ever tell you about the group I was a member of, in that club over in Taemoin sector? Pretty exclusive – it was set up by the club owner. If you wanted to be a member of our group, you signed up to a strict code of conduct, and you agreed that your sub or your dom could ask for adjudication if there was a problem in your kink relationship, or you needed advice. Most of the time, we just met to be witnesses to formal collarings – sometimes an uncollaring when things fall apart. But we had this one case which was a little different.” I lick some relish off the side of my knife, letting my tongue slide up the blade – Ren’s eyes widen a little. I nearly chuckle. That won’t do.

“We had this couple of young guys join up, sign the code, but after three months they were in trouble, and on the verge of splitting up because the top was one of these people who just couldn’t get inside his sub’s head. They loved each other for sure, which is why they kept going, but it was pretty clear they were headed for a disaster. You know the type, I’m sure.”

I look up quickly, see the subtle nod of assent. Ren does know. Good. “So finally, the sub presented his top with an ultimatum – give himself over to us for an evening to teach him a lesson, or the sub would walk. He’d had enough.”

I take another bite of food, though I’m not hungry and I barely notice what I’m eating, because I’ve got more than enough to feast my eyes on. Ren follows every bite, every swallow, and I imagine him wanting to lick my lips as I’m doing, put his tongue where my fork goes. It’s sometimes hard to get him to concentrate on what I’m doing rather than what’s in his head because what’s in his head is so powerful. The mindtrip for me is being able to manipulate him, pull him out of his thoughts and then push him back into subspace. After a year, I’m getting pretty good at it.

I reach over and cup Ren’s groin, hand over his balls under the open zip, rubbing the leather and pressing hard on what it covers, my fingers teasing at the stitching between his legs as if I might push through it and inside what’s hidden there. He tries to keep still, but he’d like me to put my hands on his cock, or inside his pants, and it’s an effort to resist the temptation. But I’m mean – I don’t give him what he’s subtly hinting for me to do. He pouts ever so slightly as I lean back in my chair again.

“Anyway, this evening, they turned up, and the judicial committee convened. We took it pretty seriously, because we liked these guys, and the dom wanted to improve, but he was young and needed some sense beaten into him. That was what we planned to do. The chairman stood up, while the two guys knelt in the middle of the room. ‘Jidi and Kero, you’ve come to us for help. Kero, you’ve signed our waiver. Do you understand the implications of that document?’”

“‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘You can keep me here for the next twelve hours, and provided you don’t cause permanent or lasting physical harm, you can do what you want to me, and I can’t call the defs or sue.’”

“‘That’s right,’ the chairman said. ‘And your sub is going to go off and be pleasured by ours – you understand that too?’”

“Well, he wasn’t too happy about that, but he nodded. They were a pretty pair, I have to say. The sub was a little older than Kero, but both young, handsome, dark eyes and hair. Well-honed bodies – they were both dancers, moved with perfect grace. Lovely to watch while playing, but Kero really didn’t get what was involved in subbing, and Jidi didn’t seem to know how to teach him.”

“The chairman nodded, and three of our subs took young Jidi away. That left Kero alone with the ten of us, still kneeling, staring at us like he was daring us to do our worst. Cocky little shit – he wouldn’t be that arrogant when I was done, I knew. The chairman had asked me to take charge that night, so I’d spent some time talking to Jidi. My plan was to give this guy some of his own medicine, show him exactly what he’d been asking of his sub, and how much it took to put himself in someone’s hands like that.”

“I stood up and walked over to him, slapping a riding crop into my gloved hand. When I was in front of him, I tapped his cheeks with the end of the crop, one, then the other, tilted his chin up, brushed the tress across his lips. He was completely still while I was doing that – puzzled I think, maybe a little worried. Then I stepped away, walked back to my chair, crossed my legs and pointed the crop at him. ‘Right, boy, strip,’ I barked.”

I run my hand slowly up inside Ren’s powerful thigh, pushing to make him spread his legs a bit more. I dig my fingers into the long muscle, feeling its strength, the runner leanness. He likes to wear his leathers tight so they hug all the curves and angles of his hips and legs, but they’re oiled and baby-soft to the touch, so they mould under my fingers. I love the feel of leather, and when it’s covering Ren, you’ve got one of my most favourite things right there. I could spend an hour happily running my hands over him. But I don’t want to get distracted. I keep my hand possessively on his inner thigh as I start talking again.

“Kero tilted his chin, gave me a cocky look as he stood up, and then began to tear his clothes off, like all we were interested in was seeing him naked. This bit didn’t bother him. He was used to stripping off – he wasn’t used to being insulted or taken down. That was going to change. ‘Hold it, boy,’ I snapped. ‘Show a little pride. Do it properly. Don’t be sloppy. And take that look off your face or I’ll smack it off.’”

“He scowled a little, but he slowed down, giving us more of a teasing show, revealing his lovely body bit by bit. When he was naked, I said, ‘Over here, boy.’ I snapped my crop against my lower leg as I spoke.”

I slide my hand higher, cup Ren’s balls again – he pushes into my grip a little. He’s thinking how much he wants me to use a crop on him, I bet. Makes me wish I had one right now, so I could tan his arse a little, make it all red and ready for me. My trousers get tighter just thinking about it, but I force myself to concentrate on the story.

“Kero jumped a little at the noise, but scooted over. One of the committee handed me a glove and lube. ‘Bend over, boy,’ I said. ‘Grab your ankles, and don’t move or I’ll have your hide.’ He didn’t bottom, Jidi said. He sure was going to be a bottom tonight.”

“I made him wait, legs spread, backside exposed to the ten of us to look at, while I stroked the tress of the crop up inside his legs, between his cheeks. He shivered a little, even though it wasn’t cold. Afraid of me. Proved he wasn’t a fool, at least, because by the time I was done, he’d have good reason to fear my crop on his fair skin.”

My fingers grip Ren’s crotch again, painfully – any harder, I’d have him howling. Not the plan for tonight.

“I pulled on a glove, then put plenty of lube on my fingers. Wasn’t aiming to cause damage, but I wasn’t as gentle as I could have been, stretching him, and he yelped. I gave him a good open-handed slap on the arse for that. ‘Shut your mouth, boy. You’re filthy. How dare you turn up here with a dirty arse? Take him over to the bathroom, tell him how to clean out properly.’”

“‘I...’ I spanked him again. ‘Shut it, boy. You don’t speak. You’ve got no safe words tonight, and you’ve got nothing I want to hear.’ And when he still tried to say something, I gave him a quick slash with the crop. He yelled liked I’d half killed him even though his skin wasn’t even pinking up. He started to stand up – two of our guards came over and made him stay bent down. ‘Shut. Up,’ I said, tapping his arse warningly with the end of the crop. I was running out of patience with his nonsense. ‘Now go clean out, and do it right or you’ll be doing it again.’”

“The guards pulled him upright, and turned him around. Well, if looks could kill, I’d be fifty midecs underground, but I just stared back coolly, as if he was a misbehaving rogan I was disciplining. I think that pissed him off more than the whack. I jerked my head at the guards and they hauled him away, one each side of him, their hands gripping his shoulders. He stomped off, rubbing his backside in an offended way, and spent a good fifteen minutes in the bathroom off the side.”

I pause to drink some water, still apparently ignoring Ren except for my wandering hand. I sneak a quick look. He’s utterly rapt, his eyes wide and dark in excitement – and his cock is still nice and hard. I’ve got his undivided attention, and you have to be fucking an empath to know how difficult that is to get. If the defs at the station could see me now....

“When Kero got back, I made him bend over, checked him out, and rejected him, though he was perfectly acceptable even before we’d started. Twice I sent the poor bastard back to do it over, and he was nearly in tears by the time I grudgingly agreed he was clean enough. ‘Now kneel and thank me properly, boy,’ I said, sprawling back in my chair. He scowled, clearly not knowing what I meant. One of the guards shoved him over to me, forced him down onto his knees, then pushed his face into my crotch. ‘Kiss it, boy,’ our guard said, and when Kero started to bitch, the guard shoved him harder. ‘Kiss it!’”

I lean forward and rub my face on Ren’s crotch, my hair brushing against his cock, my nose buried in the space beneath it. As I nuzzle, inhaling the rich man scent of leather and Ren – the aroma of his cleanser and the smell of his excitement muskier and more exotic than the most expensive cologne – he moans very, very quietly. The sound makes my cock twitch but I pretend I haven’t heard as I press a little harder against him. Another bitten off moan. I hide my grin, though he can tell, if he’s not too into my story, that I’m being evil. I sit back and pick up my fork again, examining the speared chunk on it as if that’s the only meat I’m interested in. I can still smell him, taste him almost.

“I wouldn’t let him up until he did things properly, but he was starting to piss me off a little. ‘Take him over the stocks,’ I ordered. “

“Our guards grabbed his arms, but he started to fight. ‘Wait, no, I don’t....’ I grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulled his head back. His eyes were huge, staring, angry but also afraid. He found no reassurance in my face. ‘You scared, boy? Answer me!’

“‘Yes, sir,’ he whispered.”

“‘Why?’”

“He swallowed. ‘Cos...I don’t know....’ I shook his head a little, just gently, to urge him on. It was important that he understood this. ‘I don’t know...you.’”

“‘Sir,’ I prompted. ‘That’s right, boy. You don’t. I could kill you, accidentally. Hurt you a lot. Terrifying, isn’t it?’”

“‘Yes, sir.’”

“I bent down, got him to kneel up, so we were almost face to face. ‘But I won’t,’ I said quietly. ‘I know what I’m doing. You have to trust me, Kero. Like Jidi trusts you. You have to let me take charge. I can’t take it unless you let me. You’re here by choice, boy.’ I stroked his cheek, though I still had my fist in his hair. ‘You’ve got to give it up, boy, if I’m going to give it to you. You have to trust me.’ I kept staring into his eyes. ‘Do you, Kero?’”

“‘Yes, sir.’ It was barely more than a breath.”

“‘And you know I’m going to beat you and use you, but I’m not going to hurt you, don’t you? Because if you don’t...this isn’t going to work. Will you, Kero? Give it to me?’”

“He looked at me, scared, worried, wanting so much to give me what I wanted, what Jidi wanted. I stroked his cheek again, showed him I could be gentle, willing him to let it go. ‘Yes,’ he whispered finally.”

“‘Good boy,’ I sat, patting his face carefully, then I nodded to the guards. ‘Take him over to the stocks.’”

Ren’s still listening to my every word, even leaning forward to catch what I’m saying. I make him wait as I slowly eat the bit of meat I’d been looking at. I drink some more water, lick the drops from my lips. He leans forward a little more. I pretend I don’t notice, even though I’m carefully watching to see he doesn’t fall over in his distraction.

“Our guards hauled him up and shoved him over to the equipment. The stocks were the full set, custom built like all the equipment at the club, made of iron and heavy wood. There were slots for arms, head and feet, and once he was fixed into them, he was spread out wide on his knees, hands trapped at either side of his head, and his arse facing us, completely helpless and exposed for anything we wanted to do to him. I walked around him nice and slow, like I was planning to buy him at market. ‘Hmmm, you’re damn skinny, boy.’”

“‘Not so....’ I brought the crop down hard on the stock near his head.”

Ren jumps as I slap the table, the noise and the rattle shockingly loud in my silent kitchen.

“‘Let’s get this clear, boy. You don’t speak. You don’t comment. You don’t contradict and you don’t complain. You just earned yourself twenty stripes, and I’m going to make them hard. You hear me, boy? Nod – don’t speak, or I’ll double it.’”

“He nodded quickly. Good. I trailed the crop tress over his body, down his flank, his skin pimpling behind it. Down his legs, and between them, tapping his balls gently – they shrank back. Guess he was still plenty scared. I thought I’d let him anticipate the stripes a bit longer, but first, I was going to get him ready. I signalled for fresh gloves and lube again.”

I get up, my pretence of a meal over for now. Ren’s eyes follow me until I’m behind him, squeezing his arse hard through his leather trousers, slipping my hands inside the waistband so I can get a good handful of perfect buttocks. They’re so hard, so warm. I imagine their pale skin and how they’d look with some stripes across them, how they’d clench to get away from the pain, but then relax, eager for more. Really wish I’d left a crop in the kitchen tonight. Just a couple of stripes would be perfect to lay on him now. I keep grabbing, squeezing hard enough to hurt, as I continue.

“‘Now, boy, there’s ten of us, you’ve got one mouth and one arse, and you’re due twenty stripes. You can do the division.’ While I was talking, I was fingering him slowly, lubing him up properly, stretching him, my other hand keeping him spread. Man, he was tight. Wouldn’t be when we were done. He jerked around a bit when I got three fingers inside him, but there was nothing he could do to stop me violating him. Nothing he could do to stop us having our pleasure at length with him.”

On the side shelf, I’ve got things ready, and now I tug Ren’s trousers down a bit, exposing his buttocks completely. I rub my hand over them, admiring their unblemished perfection. So tight, so ready, and all mine – for tonight, at least. I put plenty of lube on two fingers, part his cheeks with care, then I push my fingers inside him. He clenches hard around them, then relaxes with a soft sigh. I stretch him a little, then start to fuck him slowly with one hand, the other kneading his right arse cheek as I talk.

“I used my fingers until he stopped moving around, and he was hard – I reached under him, stroked him a few times until he started to thrust into my hand. ‘Like that, do you, boy? Good, because you’ve got a lot of fucking to come, and while we’re waiting, you’re going to be using your mouth for something more than moaning.’”

I ease another finger into Ren – now it’s a really tight fit, even though he’s opening up for me, trying to take me in, pushing back against my fingers. I slide them in and out, taking things a little more gently – but only a bit. He likes a bit of controlled viciousness.

“It took a bit of control, having to just finger that tight little hole and not do anything about it. If it’d just been me alone with him, I’d have ploughed him right there and then. The rest of the committee had come over to watch me working on him, and I bet our little lovely didn’t like that much. I finally gave the chairman the nod, and he walked over, unzipped, then stood in front of Kero with his massive cock hanging out. The man was probably the biggest in the room, and Kero made a funny noise as he looked at this huge thing a mycdec from his face.”

“I walked over, crouched down near Kero. ‘You’re helpless, boy,’ I whispered. ‘Just a toy for us to use now. Should see yourself, open, spread – all ours. Look at me, boy.’” He twisted a little, stared into my eyes. ‘You’re helpless, but you’re beautiful. I want you too, boy. I’m going to be the one to fuck you last. It’s going to hurt a bit, and I won’t be easy, but I’m going to take everything you’ve got and love it.’ I cupped his chin. ‘That’s what you’re giving up, boy. You’re giving this up to me. To us. Not a little thing. Are you ready to do that?’”

“I could feel the slight trembling, but his eyes never left my face. He nodded just slightly, and I stroked my fingers through his hair. ‘Then you suck his cock good. No teeth, or I’ll have to belt you harder. Understand?’”

“He nodded again, and I stood up. The chairman put his cock near Kero’s mouth again. Kero just about got his lips around it, and started to suck. At the other end, one of the other men got behind him. ‘All right, boy,’ I warned, and then our man pushed in.”

I use my fingers a bit more on Ren as I describe it, slowly forcing them deeper into him, twisting, stroking his sweet spot until he goes rigid, fighting to keep control. “The guy took it easy, but Kero still moaned a bit around the chairman’s cock as our guy pulled out. I stood and watched while he finished the chairman off – I don’t think he liked being watched. When he was done, I dragged his head up by the hair. ‘Not bad. Like sucking cock, do you?’ He glared at me, wanting me to just drop dead. But he stayed silent, which was all I’d asked. ‘I’m gonna belt you now. You bite your lip or it’ll be worse. You don’t want me to gag you, do you?’”

“He shook his head quickly – I figured he wouldn’t like being gagged. I walked behind him, rubbed his arse, slapped it a couple of times, then gave him four stripes. Hard ones too. Of course he yelped, but he was doing his best, so I ignored him. I reached under him, stroked him into hardness, and lubed his arse again, nice and careful. Then he got fucked again.”

Ren’s been pushing back hard on my hand for the last few seconds. He wants more, and now he’s going to get it. I spread my fingers out, pushing him open. He clenches around me, and makes a sound that’s nearly a whimper. I have to ease my crotch with my free hand – things are getting damn tight down there. “Something I can do for you, soldier?”

“Dek, please, please. Just fucking do me,” he whispers, voice breaking in neediness.

He’s still hard as hell, hips making those little involuntary movements a man has to make when he needs to fucking come. I get one hand around that thick cock, pumping it slowly, feeling it buck and throb under my grip. The kitchen is full of the smell of his arousal, the only sound his harsh breathing and the drag of leather against leather. But I’m not finished with my art. Ren has to wait.

“Kero took it all that night, mouth and backside serving our pleasure, the only break when I laid the next stripes down hard on him, or when our men decided to tease him, stroking him to the edge of orgasm, then stopping before he could actually come. I think he found that harder than the whacks, actually. But finally, he’d had his twenty stripes, and every man in the room but me. By then he was exhausted, dripping with sweat, sore as hell, and had forgotten what this was all about. Why he was there, why I was there. I walked around the stocks, and crouched down in front of him. I put my hand under his chin, lifted his head. ‘Tired, boy? You can speak.’”

“‘Yes.’ His eyes pleaded for me to let him go.”

“‘We’re not done, boy. There’s two people in this room who haven’t had their fun yet. I’m one – you’re the other one.’”

“‘Me?’”

“‘Sure. Because it’s supposed to be fun for both of you. Now, boy, what you’ve felt tonight – that’s what it’s like when it’s one-sided. You’ve hated it, haven’t you?’ He nodded. ‘And so have I,’ I said quietly. ‘I want my subs enjoying themselves. You gave me your trust, boy. Now give me your pleasure, and I’ll take mine in that. Will you?’”

“He closed his eyes, and I thought he was going to turn me down, but then he nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’”

Ren’s straining against me, his cock pulsing, urging me to get on with it. I squeeze it a little, telling him to settle down.

“I went round behind him again, gently stroked his poor red backside. He was going to be so damn sore, and I’d have to be careful, but he’d earned it, every bit of it. Been a good sport and tried to understand what we were getting at. Marra alone knew if he did. I lubed him again, and went in easy as I got my hand on his cock. He was limp again – he was so tired now. I started to stroke him, urging that weary, sore body to respond, giving where we’d been only taking. He moaned like a wounded barchin when I thrust a little, but he still started to get hard. I hit that sweet spot on the way in and he gasped, his cock now fully erect.”

“I kept playing him until all the soreness, all the tiredness was forgotten. Until all he wanted was to come. And then I fucked him. Fucked him long, and deep, and tirelessly, my hand on his cock, stroking, stroking, him crying out, begging, and when I shot, he came all over my hand, hot and eager, like he was fresh and ready and willing, and not used and worn out. I stayed in him until the trembling died away, and then we were done. His gift was complete, and so was mine.”

While Ren’s been thrusting into my hand, I’ve been stroking myself, my pants undone, my own cock desperate for some action too. When I’m so hard I’m in pain, and the only reason he’s not coming is the stranglehold I’ve got on him, I grip his neck and force him to bend over the table, face hard against the tabletop, kicking his feet apart as far as they’d go.

“Gonna do you hard, boy,” I say, stroking his cock roughly, and he moans, a long, eager sound. I skin up one-handed, slick myself, then shove in, no warning, no gentleness. He jerks a little in surprise, and maybe a little pain, his fingers clenching spasmodically behind him, but then he pushes back, asking for more, and I give it to him. I start to fuck him as hard as I can, the way he does me sometimes, when I can get him to forget to be nice and considerate. I stroke him off mercilessly, thrusting like I’m trying to fuck his mouth from the wrong end, making him feel every mycdec of my cock, and the brutal, possessing grip of my hand.

For a while, all I can hear is the grunt and slap, the rasp of air in and out of our lungs. I’m still trying to keep up a measured, hard rhythm as I fuck him, but he’s making it tough to manage that kind of control. Each time I thrust, he grunts, bucking back, taking it all wanting more, wanting to come, but I’m holding him back with my strong grip at the base of his cock. It’s pulsing strongly, jerking under my hand, as Ren’s climax tries to force its way out, but every time I squeeze it into submission, Ren’s arse clenches around me. Between that and the moans and sounds he’s making, I’m having a hard time concentrating.

Enough – I’ll be the one who lets him come. I slap his arse really hard, hard enough to hurt my hand. “Stop that, boy,” I snarl, just like I had at Kero that night. “You’re not in charge here.”

Ren obeys at once. “Sorry, De-sir.” He’s breathing hard, but I can feel him trying to relax a little, easing up the grip he’s got on me.

Eventually the death hold on my cock lets up, and he’s gone quieter. “Better,” I say, stroking his backside in approval. Now I can get myself under control again, and finish what I started.

Ren’s hands are clenched into tight, urgent fists, the veins in his wrists standing out, the knuckles white from tension. He’s ready, and now, so am I. I jerk his cock, hard and fast, and he comes with a sharp cry almost of regret, like it’s too soon, like he’s not been trying to get me to do this for at least three minutes. I start to thrust again, hard. I’m only a few seconds behind him, spilling hot and deep inside him. When I stop moving, I’m still squeezing his cock in a painful grip, his come all over my hands and the table, the ripe yeastiness of it mixing with the smell of my half-eaten meal.

I close my eyes, savouring the release of tension in my body, and the feel of him around me. When I open them again, the sight of his now slack body, pliant and obedient in front of me, is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever had. I almost regret coming, because all I want to do is take him again like this, while he’s helpless and weak and entirely mine.

I pull out gently, let his cock go, then reach for a paper towel, wipe him and my hands roughly, clean the rest of it up and throw everything towards the recycling. Then I pull up his pants, untie his wrists, help him stand. He’s a little unsteady on his feet, so I wait a second or two before I make him turn and grab his head. I kiss him hard as his arms go tight around me, like he’s trying to squeeze me to death.

“You’re a bad, bad man, Dek,” he says with a smile, kissing me again. “So what happened to them?”

“Well, Jidi came back in after we let Kero out of the stocks, after I’d cleaned him up and got a blanket around him. They kissed and cuddled and Kero swore he’d do better by Jidi in future. I believed him, but Jidi left him for another guy two months later,” I add with a shrug. “Kero got out of the scene after that, disappeared. There’s no such thing as a happy ending.”

“No,” Ren says quietly. “But you can always try for one. Still think about that boy’s arse?” he asks, cupping my backside tightly.

“Sometimes.” I reach behind him and give his own hard buttocks a healthy squeeze. “Think about yours more. Even in briefings.”

He grins. “That’s how I stay cool when I’m dealing with shitheads like that Kaeze guy. Just when I think I’m going to get up and pound him into a bloody smear on the floor, I imagine you bending me over the interview table and giving it to me there and then. Never fails to cheer me up.”

“Oh, great, Parg Rensire. That’s going to make interviews so much easier to concentrate on in the future.”

He’s unrepentant, and even kisses me again like he’s entitled, the bastard. “Hey, we all cope in our own ways.” He strokes a finger along my jaw. “Still a member of that group?”

“Not any more. Not on the committee, at least. But I think it’s not a bad way of doing things. I know there are some doms who are better for it. Some subs who’ve got out of bad situations because of us.”

“Hmmm. Maybe. I like my punishments a bit more...personal.” He gives me a sly look. “Hope I can count on you being just as mean with me, when I need it.”

“Oh, yeah. Hard as fucking nails, boy. Now – I want to finish my supper. Go sit.”

The outrage is instantaneous. “Dek!”

I’m not good at innocent looks, but I give it my best shot. “Only so I can keep my strength up, Ren.”

He grips the back of my head gently, fisting the short hair in a mock threat. “Huh. You better make good on that promise, I’m telling you now, or no committee on the planet will save you.”

I snort, pull away. I’m not worried. Every beautiful instrument needs a player who understands it, and I understand Ren very well. I’m what he needs.

Lucky me.

The End