SEVEN HITS! Get Your Ass Ready! (6 page)

Then one day he had opened the local paper’s Tech section and seen the banner headline. ZACK MECKLENBERG SELLS RATETHATDATE.COM FOR $6M TO VENTURE CAPITALIST. Shaking, he raced to Zack’s dorm room, only to find it empty, stripped bare. He had never signed anything, had never had anything other than an understanding that “they” would be rich together. And now Zack was rich and he…he was broke.

Four years had passed since then, and Severin had created his own website, a barter economy bank where goods and services could be traded and their value “deposited” electronically, and his commissions on each trade had made him vastly wealthy in his own right.

They had been four years in which he had learned just how deep and dark his sexuality could go, just how much anger he had in him and how to express it in one of two ways that wouldn’t kill him or anyone else – by channeling that energy into building businesses, and into torturing and ass-ravaging hot men, and the more they resembled Zack the better.

Only they would be like him in looks, or attitude, but never both. He reveled in breaking their arrogant spirits, leaving them soaked in piss and covered in cum and sobbing on the dirty floor, only to come back the next night hoping for more – but once was all any of them got. Once, and he was finished with them.

But it wasn’t the revenge he needed. And so that night as he walked, he began to make a plan. No more substitutes. He would have Zack down there, and for him, he would devise torments beyond belief, until he broke, then begged for mercy, and then, at last, begged for more of what Severin had to give him.

He idly touched his chest, thinking of the words emblazoned there in a half circle dipping from shoulder to shoulder, their Gothic lettering hard to read, all the more so because they were in German:

Rache ist ein Gericht am besten kalt serviert

The dish was cold. It was time to serve it.

Bel
looked uncomfortable. “I know you and him have a history, boss… I mean I don’t know all the details, sir, and they’re none of my business…”

“What you do on your own time is none of my business, either,” Severin said to his bartender. It filled him with rage to think of
Bel
submitting to Zack. He wanted to ask if he’d worked
Bel
over before or after Zack had, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. “I just need to know where he found you.”

“He’s on Man4Man.com, sir. He never goes out to the bars, just…cruises the Internet.”

Severin had never bothered with the popular pickup websites and apps. He was a busy man with no time to weed through Internet
bullshitters, and he was too damn hot to have to bother. What he wanted came to him. But if this was where Zack was, that was where he’d go.

He created the profile he knew would appeal to Zack: a big butch dude who called himself a “vers/top” because he didn’t want the world to know how much he loved taking dick. He used a headless pic of his bouncer, with his permission, and soon he was ready to go.

Then he started searching profiles, knowing Zack would be too arrogant to lie about his stats. Filtering down by age, height, weight, and predilection, he soon had a handful of profiles. One of them, with no picture, stood out. “Successful dominant young dude looking for similar, no homos. Be masculine and ready to take orders.”

Severin snorted.
No homo – I’ll show you homo, bitch
.

“I have access to a dungeon, owned by a top who’ll let me use it sometimes,” he’d written to Zack, and Zack had responded. “Tonight. Give me the address.”

Severin knew it would be late before Zack would arrive at the bar. That was part of the gratification they’d both gotten out of being tops – telling a bottom “tonight” and leaving them to wait, and wait, giving up and hoping again in cycles until finally, finally, you deigned to show up. Maybe. If something better didn’t come along.

The bar was nearly empty this late on a weeknight, and Zack found his way to the basement easily enough. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, the door had clicked softly shut behind him, erasing all sound from upstairs.

Zack stood there in his flip flops, feet bare to the weather year round, and looked at the empty room. “What the fuck is this?”

Severin came out of the shadows, in nothing but a black jockstrap and boots. “This is your destiny, motherfucker.”

Zack’s eyes widened, then the smirk came back to his face. “Well, well. So you’re my sub tonight, huh? Should have known all along that’s what you really wanted.”

Severin moved in on him, but Zack was fast, still athletic and agile, and danced away. “So this is your plan, huh? This is how you pay me back? You think you’re going to rape me and get away with it?”

“Shut up.” Severin said, his rage building. He hadn’t thought it through, had he? He couldn’t expect to just
take
Zack and expect to get away with it…

Zack saw the pool cues on the wall. “I got a deal for you.” He grabbed a stick and threw it to Severin, and took one himself, feeling the
heft
of it. “You and me, battle it out. Whoever wins is the other one’s bitch tonight.”

Severin twirled the stick. They weren’t cheap, and they wouldn’t break easily, he knew. And they’d cause a lot of pain if they landed right. Zack had the advantage of martial arts experience…but Severin had kept a sub for a while who’d been an MMA fighter, who’d taught him a trick or two about street fighting. There was no referee here, and he would not lose this battle.

“You’re on.”

The dungeon’s dim track lights made the pool cues flicker and spark as they spun and thrust. Zack blocked his first swing with a two-handed grip, pushing back hard to test
Severin’s
strength.
Severin’s stance was firm and he held his ground, but as he adjusted his feet to dig in his toes, Zack slid his cue off Severin’s, then got low, and whacked Severin on his bare thigh with the narrow end of his cue.

Damn, that stung! Zack was already following up with a swing at
Severin’s
shoulder. He awkwardly twisted to evade it. He realized that Zack could have taken a head shot and put him out, but that wasn’t going to be how this went down – it would be a fair fight, after all, the last thing he’d expected from the man who’d robbed him.

“Hurts, huh?” Zack asked, faking a thrust at his belly and turning the cue in a sharp arc towards Severin’s
side.

“I’ve had worse,” Severin said, slamming the head of his cue into the concrete floor to block the blow.

“You’ve never been anything but the dom, have you? This is going to be interesting, turning you.”

“Never been anything but, and not about to change that now,” he snapped back. The stick was getting slippery with his sweat. He took a swing at Zack and the cue flew out of his hands. Zack took a wide swing at
Severin’s
calves and Severin leapt over the cue like a jump rope.

Zack laughed. “Nice.”

Severin grabbed the chalk from the pool table and rubbed his hands with it, going into a defensive stance, hands in front of him.

Zack shook his head. “You think I’m gonna fight dirty, don’t you?”

“You cheated me before.”

“You cheated yourself.” Zack threw away the stick and put his hand out for the chalk. “First round to me.”

Severin stared at him for a second, then tossed him the chalk. This was not going how he thought it would.

They danced around as Severin tried to read the glitter in Zack’s eyes. Was he going to throw a punch here? But Zack got low and threw his weight into
Severin’s
midsection, ready to wrestle him to the ground. Severin was shocked by the contact, his body telling him too many things at once – telling him to fight back, and telling him to surrender to Zack’s warm, hard hands.

They twisted on the ground, Severin trying to remember everything his MMA buddy had told him, turning and twisting to try and escape Zack’s grip. But he found himself on his back, his legs locked up by Zack’s, his hands pinned to the floor beside his head.

“This is what you always wanted, wasn’t it?” Zack smiled. “This is what turned you on every time we worked over one of those big
muscleheads. You wanted it to be you.”

Severin looked into himself, as overwhelmed by Zack’s words as by his grip. Was it true? Could he ever let go and submit, and enjoy it?

Wasn’t that the final step in his becoming a complete Master? To be the sub, to have that perfect knowledge of what it was like on the other end?

“Yes,” he said out loud. “I like this. I want to do this.” Zack’s eyes widened and his grip loosened involuntarily.

“
But not with you
,” Severin said with a grunt, and as he bucked his hips he used the wave of force to push Zack up and over, and now he was in charge.

Zack fought like a tiger but what had opened in Severin this time was a channel to a new power, a reserve of will with no end, and soon Zack realized it. His struggles ceased. He loosened up and Severin could see in the light change in his eyes.

“Go on, then,” Zack said. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

Severin wrestled him up onto the pool table and secured him. He pulled his pants down and marveled at Zack’s smooth, perfect ass, so white…and about to be so red.

Zack jumped when Severin laid the fat end of a pool cue between his ass cheeks, slowly stroking it up and down, each time the end of it coming closer to Zack’s asshole.

“What’s the matter,” Zack spat, “your cock too small, you gotta use this?”

Severin could have gagged him but some part of him was loving this. How many of his subs just rolled over and played dead? All of them, ever? Zack was a caged tiger, but still a tiger for all that he was caged.
Severin’s
dick throbbed in his jockstrap, pushing its way out of the side of the cup as it hardened. Finally, a challenge!

“Remember this?” he said, laying the cleated
paddle on Zack’s ass. Zack bucked as hard as he could with his ass strapped down. “I’ve made a few improvements, though.”

He brought it down hard on Zack’s ass. “AH FUCK!” Zack shouted in shock and rage. “YOU FUCKER!”

“Say it,” Severin demanded.

“Fuck you.”

He paused. “This is what you owe me, asshole. This is the price. I won, you pay.”

Zack mumbled something. Severin brought the paddle down harder, the cleats leaving angry indents in the flesh.

“Thank you sir may I have another!”

Severin smiled. “Yes you may.”

Again and again he struck that ass, till it was fully tenderized. Zack said the words again and again, until, finally, they came out of him like a mantra.

Severin dropped the paddle and came around so his dick was in Zack’s face. “Beg for it.”

“Please sir can I have your cock. Please sir can I have your cock…” Zack was bent but not broken, Severin could see. The rage in his eyes gave the lie to every pleading word. But this time he
had
made a deal, and he would show Severin that he would keep it.

Severin stroked himself, willing himself not to touch Zack, afraid if he did his resolve would break. You were my friend! He shouted inside. I was yours! You bastard! You hot fucking asshole! You gorgeous fucking asshole…

He clenched, hissed, and shot. He opened his eyes to see Zack’s face closed tight against the gouts of cum splattering against it. “Open your mouth. Drink it!” he commanded, but it was too late to make Zack do anything else, too late to stop himself from blowing his load. He could only watch his juice exploding across Zack’s face, dripping down it, Zack resisting every drop.

Finally he was done. Spent, he staggered back and looked at what he’d done. Zack, bound tight, ass red, face
splooge-drenched. It was finished. Life could go on.

He gently washed Zack’s face with one of the wet cloths he had Bel
keep ready at all times.

Zack looked up at him and smiled. “We done? We square now?”

Severin nodded. “We’re done.” He unhooked and
uncuffed
Zack, who rolled off the table and, with none of the self-massaging concern for his roughened wrists or pummeled ass most bottoms would have displayed, pulled up his pants just as if he was getting out of bed in the morning and stepping out for coffee. He slipped back into his flip-flops and sauntered away.

Zack paused at the foot of the steps, and grinned at him. “Till next time.” Then he bounded up the stairs and was gone.

Severin leaned against the pool table, thoughtful. Next time? What did that mean? Why would there be a next time?

He knew what it meant. He saw himself on his knees before Zack, and thought, now I could. The point of this life he’d chosen wasn’t just to be the master. The point was to feel the pleasure of power. Taking it…and maybe even giving it.

Yeah, Zack, he said to himself. Now I could. Now that we’re square.

Beck couldn’t believe his eyes. It had only taken a second to see it, as he passed that motel room, but it had been burned into his retinas. Half of him had wanted to stop and stare, but the other half had kept control, kept him moving.

The room he’d looked into was dark, save for a shaft of light from the bathroom. It was the movement that had caught his eye, unexpected in a motel room with open curtains.

Two men were on the bed, silhouetted in the bathroom light. One was on his back, naked, his legs in the air above him.

And over him, on top of him, was a taller, leaner man, pinning the other’s hands to the baseboard. He had a baggy black t-shirt on, and cargo shorts down around his knees. He was pumping furiously, slamming his cock into the other man’s ass, knocking his head against the wall. It was as if he had seen the naked man through the window, just as Beck had, and just…walked in through an unlocked door, dropped his shorts, and started fucking, without even bothering to close the curtains.