Antidote (Don't) (9 page)

Strange how I settled for playing my own body, feeling perspiration slick my stomach, mixing with the pre-come. Gray was a bastard, but he was also a Master. Mine. He wouldn’t fuck life up in such a way.

“Stop.” Gray’s soft voice stilled intent and I managed to gather enough sense to see we had pulled up onto his drive. Jan’s quiet niggled at me a little more, and I wanted him out and inside so I could see if he was okay. He’d been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe all of this was getting to his vanilla side more than he admitted.

“Jan,” I started to say, now decent as I went around and pulled open his door. He graced me with a glance, nothing more. After shutting the door behind him, I let my head fall a touch as I made my way into Gray’s hall, making sure I went first. Moody. Yeah, I could still do fucked-up and moody.

My jacket found a home in the cupboard as Jan and Gray followed in. Giving a deep sigh, I waited for them to close the main door behind us before I could find the balls to face them.

“Look, Jan—”

Grabbed by the shirt, pushed back against the door, Jan came in hard and heavy with a kiss that nearly cut my lip.

“Fuck.” It was all I could manage as Jan tongued me deep, his hands—everywhere. Tugging my shirt free as he backed away, Jan then pulled me through the living room, past Gray’s study, down a few stairs, through a long hall, and finally into a studio Gray kept solely for me and him. All of the usual BDSM toys blurred at the edges seeing Jan in front of me. I wanted to warn him he wasn’t supposed to be in here, private sessions between me and Gray were kept just that: private. But he slid down on his knees and nuzzled against my cock so fast I lost breath. “What, what the fuck’s gotten into you?”

Gray slipped in behind and a nibble at my ear sent shivers down my sides. “Something special tonight,” he said quietly. Was he smiling? “Jan has voyeuristic tendencies. They just need... encouraging.
Encourage
him, Jack.”

Jan eased to his feet, wiping at his mouth. “Strip,” he said, backing away from me and pulling off his own shirt so he was reduced to nothing but grey suit trousers. “Now, Jack.”

As I slipped off my tie, then shirt, he moved over to a white leather Tantra chair and straddled it before easing on down, face on to us, and flicking at the clasp to his trousers so his hard cock was on full display. He waited until I was naked, then—“Kneel.”

After giving a quick glance over my shoulder, still feeling Gray’s teasing bite at my ear, I knelt with my head down. This shared command was something fucking new.

“You have your Master here, Jack.” Jan was so quiet, so calm, now gently massaging his cock. “Show me. How do you ask for his touch?”

I glanced down, knowing what Jan was asking for. Every sub had their way of asking; mine went back ten years, something very personal to me and Gray, something that Jan had every right to ask to share as our lover. Gray stood just behind me, and without looking, unable to look, I blindly traced a touch up the fine cut of his trousers, coming to rest at his pocket. Gripping there tightly, I turned into him and reared up, upper chest now crushing against his hip, cock riding his leg as his stance spread mine. He smelled so fucking good, and I ran my nose along his belt, hands gently gripping at his ass, before I eased to my feet. Letting my hand rest gently on Gray’s neck, I traced my lips along his jaw, all just to ghost a kiss at his throat. The fact that he reacted, shifted to allow me access to his throat, was his approval to continue.

Fuck. The toned muscles of his abs played under my fingers before I shifted down to the clasp of his trousers and unzipped him. With one side of his trousers inched open, I pulled out a small portion of his shirt to expose a fine line of tanned hip.

Giving a frown, I rested my head on his shoulder and found my cock.

“Christ. Gray,” I mumbled, moving in so close my shaft brushed his exposed hip every time I stroked. I fucking loved him just being by me, with whatever it was that he wrapped around my body. He could be half a world away, and I’d still feel his shift of gaze in my direction. I sighed, content just to stay there, mark his tanned hip with light tastes of pre-come, letting anyone know who came within half a fucking continent that I’d floor the fuck for getting close. “Shit,” I mumbled.

Gray gripped my wrists, breaking concentration, and I looked at him just before his step forward insisted I take a few steps back. The curve of my ass hit one of the bondage tables, and Gray eased me down, forcing me to arch onto tiptoes until I lay flat.

He came down with me, lips to neck, and then ran kisses along the length as his body blanketed mine. A nudge at my jaw to lift my head and expose my throat was his demand as my Dom; my shift of head to allow him access was my submission. He bit, sending shivers through me that fucked with every vein in my groin. And from here, I watched Jan, the look in his eyes as he sat there stroking himself, his gaze not straying from us.

“Fuck.” I hid in Gray’s shoulder. Too much. Together they were too fucking much.

Gray eased back, making sure I stood, too, the bondage table again digging into my ass. “Hands up. Above your head,” he said. A moment later, a metal cuff circled one wrist, then the other. Gray liked his shackles, numerous ones tethered at various heights to the ceiling.

Hands never lost contact with my body, feather-playing down my arms, my sides, coming to rest on my hips and then encouraging me to turn around and face that table. A leg eased mine open; then Gray’s touch ran down my thighs as he knelt and chained my feet apart with the bondage straps tethered to the base of the table legs.

It forced the lower part of my cock against the wood and I gripped onto the chain, biting back a groan as my shaft rode the ridge.

A stroke came at my cheek, and then the room went dark as a blindfold was eased into place. Soft groans hit the air—Jan’s.

“Sex slave,” whispered Gray in my ear, stirring more shivers. “Always did like this look on you, Jack.” A collar slipped around my throat and a heavy leash was left to rest between my pecs, the leather end hitting my cock before resting on the table. Breathing became my only focus; collars were bad history for me. Gray knew that but stopped any kickback from my mouth with a cat o’ nine tails. I cried out, my cock instantly fucking the table as the cat struck my back. Six more came, two at my thighs, but hit with such precision and quickness, the arch of my body was already lost to more strokes on my back.

A slight draft, a sudden change of direction, I cried out as the whip hit my abs.

“
Fuck, you bastard
.” I meant it, and in reply the cat hit the tip of my cock, the part that the table couldn’t hide, and with such fine precision. Then an even more bastard strike hit my back and I bit back more abuse, body arching away from the whip.

Drawing a finger trail through the perspiration coating my abs, a hand traced down to my cock, brushing my tip, slicking me up, then wrapping the end of the leash around my shaft.

“Like that, Jack?” Jan whispered so fucking softly, and I groaned, at first thinking it had been Gray’s touch. But Gray made his presence known from behind, a cane cutting across my ass, and Jan took advantage of the push forward into his touch, circling my cock and angling it down beneath the table.

“Come on, Jack, ride it,” said Jan, that ballsy bite to his tone. Breathing his name as I gripped harder on the shackles, now forced up onto the balls of my feet, I fucked Jan’s hand with the leash circling my shaft, the ride somehow kinkier under Jan’s innocent touch. Another strike of the cane had me crying out, the intensity racing around my hips, into my groin, making my shaft nothing but heat encased in a vice. Gray met each pull back with a slice of cane across my ass, and it only forced me back into Jan, this time with a twist of head into my arm that yelled I was getting close to coming.

“Enough,” said Gray, reading the signs. “Long night ahead, Jack.” His hand traced the small of my back, a gentle mapping of marks that only stung more under his tenderness. “Control the fall for me, stunner.” Giving a teasing bite at my shoulder, the bastard
was
smiling; I heard it in his voice as he whispered, “Re-Mastering is now in full session.”

Gray released my hands and the instinct was there to rub at them, to relax, to find control and let Gray play.

“Down.” The grip on my collar ensured I did just that, taking me face first over the bondage table. “Arms above your head.” Shackles were pulled down over the main body of the table, and I rested my head down, forehead to hard surface, feet still spread wide and hands receiving the same lack of freedom as they were bound close to my head.

A gentle brush of hand against my balls, the undeniable touch of a patch on skin came next, one on my inner thigh, then another to the right. Two more were taped just slightly down from that, one left, one right. Wiring traced up over my ass, touching the burn on my cheeks, and then two more patches were placed on the small of my back. I knew what they signified: enough kick, enough voltage to—

“
Fuck
.” The first jolt was just enough to accompany the humming already running from fingertips to toes, and I closed my eyes, squirming into the shock. The second jolted me slightly, tightening the muscles across my lower back, between my thighs, and I shifted under the onslaught, feeling the shock travel my length and making it kick back into gear after the flogging. One more, two, three times—then I lost sight of my whereabouts as the high voltage had me up on my tiptoes, body and mind humming to bastard-filled currents that had me crying out hurt.

Maybe. Fuck. Maybe.

A pause came, long enough to leave Gray running his hand over my shoulders, and I swore if I could see it, there’d be that blue spark between his fingers and my skin, that electrical charge he always seemed to send through my body, voltage kit in hand or not. And then muscles were tightening again under the onslaught of electrical current. I was crying out, the fuck was I crying out. Hurt, agony, but more, just... “
Fucking... more
.”

It took me a while to realise my hands were free, feet having already found a more natural position, and I stumbled from the table, a little puzzled as to when exactly Gray had stopped, or how long I’d lain there.

“Down.”

“Fuck.” No hand on my collar this time, I just instantly followed Gray’s command more on instinct than sense. The blindfold was still in place, either that or Gray had really sent me blind, and my hands found the floor in an attempt to ground me.

A touch ran under my jaw, shifting my blinded gaze up.

“Calm it,” whispered Gray, and the scent of his cologne, so close, it was enough to let me know he was crouched in front of me. “Breathe,” he said. “It’s been a while and I’m losing you. I need to see you pull back. Control the fall, stunner. Your blackouts with your disorders are always a concern.”

After taking off my blindfold, he walked away and I heard him open something, a box? It had that
clip
sound as a lid was shut; then he came back over. “Full submission.”

No questioning, no fight, no mouth, just natural compliance. Inching my knees wider, linking my hands behind my back, I eased down and rested my forehead on the floor. These were the times when life had no complications, just sensation, just sense. Just Gray’s sense and my quiet sensibility around him.

A gentle tug came at my collar, and it was removed a moment later.

“Holding the same position, lift your head.”

I did and Gray crouched by me. In his hand slept a new collar, and I frowned. I’d not seen this one before. It was the traditional leather that Gray liked, but this one was a strange metallic silver with two matching D rings. An inscription lay on the inside, something I couldn’t read from this distance. A smile touched Gray’s lips.

“Would you wear this collar, Jack, and not remove it until I have spoken to you in the morning? I want to discuss how good it would look to see it on you permanently.”

“Sir,” I mumbled.

“Repeat what I’ve said.”

“Not remove the collar until morning, not until you’ve spoken to me.”

“Good.” Brushing a touch against my cheek, he shifted slightly and slipped the collar into place. Then I noticed him pick something else up. In his palm sat a smooth, round stone; no bigger in diameter than a flattened tennis ball, but looking heavy as it sat there in his hand. “One kilogram,” he said quietly, “about the weight of a bag of sugar.” He reached over and the weight of the stone pressed down close to the base of my neck, dead centre to my shoulder blades. It was left there as Gray stood. “Control. Under no circumstances is the stone allowed to fall for the next half an hour, is that clear?”

“Sir.” The weight of the stone felt a little heavier, my shoulders aching just a touch more as Gray came back over and knelt just a few feet from me. “Hands out in front, fingers linked.”

Unlocking my fingers from my back, I stretched my arms out in front of me, now seeing the long lengths of rope in Gray’s hands. The style was undeniable: Asanawa white jute rope, and I think I groaned then. Gray was Kinbakushi. Rope bondage was more than just an act, it was a sexual expression, and fuck, I’d grown up loving the ropes as a kid. It took time, patience, and I closed my eyes to the feel of the rope constantly binding my wrists part-way down to the elbow, then knotting together. The silk feel to the rope crisscrossed over my back, then was made to create diamond shapes over my ass, down one leg, then the other. All the time, the jerks from the pull on rope were met with a will to keep my body as still as possible so the stone didn’t fall. Rope slipped down my crack, circling one hip, then the other, and I was left to control my breathing with deep intakes in, long breaths out, loving how the rope brushed against my cock as I shifted slightly.