He wasn’t so sure. The mansion was huge and there were many rooms. It would be easy to be in a remote part of the house, to get lost amidst all the other activities and noises of pleasure and pain. He remembered the night with Linus. If Kenneth hadn’t been there…
He brought himself back to the present. “What would you like?”
As best as he could, he couldn’t allow himself to fall apart at every remark Preston made. He had to hold onto the hope that he’d get rescued or get away before Preston made good on his threats. Preston couldn’t possibly risk doing anything too severe before the elections. He had to believe that.
“I’d like for you to be the man you promised me you’d be, but I’ll take a ham sandwich instead. Oh, and since you have such a fondness for limes, fetch some from the yard and make me a double Gin Rickey.”
“Yes, Master.”
Kenneth scurried away, pondering what Preston’s cryptic remarks about Kenneth promising him something meant. In truth, Kenneth had promised him total submission, but Preston had also promised to take care of him. To treasure him. Kenneth hadn’t expected real love. He’d only wanted a new Master. When Preston had begun to utter words of tenderness, Kenneth had fallen for him.
It nauseated him to remember those times. They’d only had a few months where Kenneth had believed in a bright future for them before everything had fallen apart.
‘I’m the Master. You’re my slave. You do anything I tell you and you take whatever I give you. Then you thank me for it. You have no choice in the matter.’
Kenneth had protested that Ronald had never done that to him, that he’d always had permission to cry mercy if necessary. Since Ronald had never desired to destroy him and Kenneth loved physical pain, he’d rarely pleaded for it. The beating he’d received that day from Preston had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It had been filled with so much anger, so much hatred. It wasn’t the type of pain he craved.
After that, everything had increasingly worsened between them. Kenneth had believed he could survive it because Preston had turned his attentions to other men. But something seemed to have triggered in him since the incident with Linus. Even though Preston had been deteriorating for a while, Kenneth could tell that things had escalated since then. The man was rapidly becoming unhinged to the point of no return.
He stepped out into the fresh air, grateful for the warmth of the sun on his face and that he wasn’t choking on dust. After he’d picked some limes, he strolled back to the door, reluctant to go back inside so soon—but knowing there would be harsh consequences if he didn’t get Preston’s lunch ready.
As he washed the limes to get the dirt off the peels, he glanced up to look out the window at the world going by without him. It was why doing the dishes was one of his favorite activities. The kitchen window was perfectly situated. The house was up on a foundation so from his vantage point he could see over the fence onto the side street of their corner address.
Black motorcar.
It was the same one he’d seen for the past couple of days when Preston had let him out for a few hours at a time to prepare his meals or do other menial chores. It was always parked in the same spot and there were two men in the interior. It was very strange. The last thing he dared do was bring it to Preston’s attention, but he wondered about it. Part of him fantasized that Master Saul had sent the men to watch over him, but even he had to admit to himself that the thought was pretty silly.
“Where in the devil’s name is my sandwich? Quit daydreaming or else I’ll…”
The rest of Preston’s words faded to the back of his mind. He knew it was silly to think Saul had sent the car over. He was also fairly certain that Saul’s promise to help him didn’t mean he wanted any type of relationship with him. But the one thing that
was
for sure was that he was done with Preston. Once they left the house for the club, Kenneth wasn’t coming back. Dead or alive, he knew his life with Preston Cornwall was over.
* * * *
Saul watched with interest as Theodore teased a tightly bound Francesco with a royal blue ostrich feather in front of the audience in the grand ballroom. Francesco had been paddled heartily at the beginning of the demonstration as he’d been bent over a bench with his wrists tied behind his back. Theodore had lifted them so that they rested on his waist, then braced Francesco with one hand at the small of his back. With the other, he’d used a large wooden paddle that had a fair amount of heft to it.
Theodore had been mindful of only hitting the fleshy part of Francesco’s ass so as not to bruise or injure his bones. Once his boy’s rear had glowed a bright red, he’d soothed the undoubtedly tender flesh with the palm of his hand while whispering softly to him. Then he’d lifted him in his arms and carried him to an elaborate dentist’s chair with an ornate enamel base and arms. It was padded in what looked like supple camel-colored leather.
He’d gently placed Francesco in it, the only indication that he felt the aftereffects of his thrashing being the slight wince he made when Theodore laid him down. He’d been completely relaxed, the perfect example of a man freely giving his submission to another. Watching the men so in tune with one another’s needs filled Saul with joy, with hope for the club. This was the reason that the future of Hampton Road was so vital. Couldn’t everyone see that?
Saul had continued to watch, enraptured as Theodore had first masked Francesco then bound his limbs to the chair with several leather straps. He’d noted how every time Francesco’s breathing sped up, Theodore would touch him lightly, or pause to place his hand on Francesco’s shoulder or his chest. Only when Francesco had been tension free and breathing regularly would he continue.
Once Theodore had completed tying Francesco, he’d leaned over and kissed his forehead. From the same leather satchel where he’d retrieved the leather pieces and mask, he’d plucked the ostrich feather he was currently tormenting Francesco with. Francesco’s gasps and sighs filled the air, the audience silent in rapt attention. He struggled against the ties, his hands clenching and unclenching, his toes curling every time Theodore tickled the feather against a particularly sensitive spot of his body.
Soon, Theo concentrated the seemingly innocuous item on the head of Francesco’s cock. His sighs turned to whimpers and sweat gathered on his brow, reflected under the spotlights directed on him. A rosy flush bloomed over his skin as he wriggled futilely against the restraints.
“Hold onto it, boy. Not yet.”
“Yes, Master. Whatever you desire.”
Aaron leaned into Saul and whispered, “Spectacular.”
Saul nodded. He had a lot of affection for the pair. As much of a troublemaker as Francesco could be at times, he was completely devoted to Theodore, and Saul had no doubt he would die for him. He glanced at Aaron and noted how straight Sam was perched on his knees at Aaron’s feet. It was much different from his usual position with his head resting against Aaron’s thigh.
Saul knew the reason for Sam’s different posture. Aaron had shared with him that Sam had responded so well to the graduating stone beads that he would insert into his lover that he’d decided to try a larger object. It was a type of plug fashioned of natural rubber. Once it was introduced into Sam’s passage, his muscles would grip it and hold it there. A base shaped like a handle prevented it from becoming irretrievable. Being made of rubber, it wouldn’t be too heavy for him the way a stone object would have been. But it would be large and noticeable enough that it would nudge his prostate, depending on how he moved. Aaron was using it on Sam to help him with his control. Only just nineteen, Sam could still be a bit trigger-happy. It was also a wonderful way to tease him.
His attention was drawn back to the stage as Francesco cried out at the end of a lusty groan.
“Beautifully done, love. Come for everyone.”
Theodore cupped Francesco’s balls and he shot hard, spraying Theodore’s hand as well as his own chest and stomach. Theodore milked his lover’s cock, then brought his hand to Francesco’s lips. Even though he was still blindfolded, he seemed to instantly respond to the scent of his spend and parted his lips. His pink tongue poked out of his mouth and he lapped up his cum from Theodore’s fingers.
The audience broke into applause and Saul was flushed with pride over the whole interaction. He thought of all of the men there as his family, and he didn’t want Preston to destroy his happy home. He wouldn’t allow it—even if it meant giving something up he’d sworn he never would.
* * * *
Kenneth wore the same black shirt he’d had on from Saul’s visit the prior week. It had since been cleaned of the bloodstains. He wore the harness underneath it and his cock and balls were tightly restrained by a leather device Preston had gotten specially made. He no longer cared whether he came or not, but the way the leather held him so tightly, it kept his shaft somewhat hard. It was good for show.
Once they’d pulled through the gates of Hampton Road then parked, Kenneth went through the motions of offering his neck in order for Preston to put the collar and leash on. There had never been any significance to the accessory, no meaning the way some of the other submissives’ collars had. Sam, Aaron’s boy, had been very complimentary of it. Kenneth still regretted how he’d dismissed the boy’s kind words by saying it had no importance to him. Sam had looked crushed and Kenneth had apologized by explaining that he didn’t have the type of relationship with his Master that Sam did with his.
“I’m sorry you’re not happy, Kenneth. I hope you find someone good for you someday.”
He really liked Sam, Francesco and some of the other men there. He’d regret not ever seeing them again. And he
had
found someone good for him. But unless Master Saul freed him that night, he’d never see him again either.
“What’s wrong with you?”
He was brought back to the present by Preston’s measured tone. It was worse than the out-of-control yelling. Allowing Preston to suspect he was upset at all would be a horrible mistake. He couldn’t draw any unusual attention to himself.
Why aren’t I a better liar?
“I-I’m sorry Master. My head is bothering me.”
It was vaguely truthful. Preston didn’t need to know that it was actually the thoughts in his head that were bothering him more than anything.
“Don’t humiliate me tonight.” An oddly uncomfortable expression clouded Preston’s features. He seemed conflicted the way he pursed his lips, drew his eyebrows together. “If you behave extra good, I’ll see about letting you sleep in the bedroom tonight.”
You mean you’re not going to beat me to death in front of your supporters like you promised?
“Thank you, Master.”
Either Preston was stark-raving mad, or he was trying to send Kenneth over the edge. Regardless, Kenneth was at the point of no longer caring. He was done.
They made their way to the mansion, the heavy wooden doors with the strap iron hinges a foreboding entryway to the Tudor Revival structure. Once inside the entry hall, Kenneth was unclipped from his leash. He went through the ritual of following the greeter, Michael, to the library where he disrobed and placed his personal items on a shelf. He had a picture-perfect memory and could recall exactly how to get back to the room to retrieve his clothing when it was time to make his escape.
Preston had gone ahead, not requiring Kenneth’s presence until such time as he’d decided. He surmised his precious so-called Master was putting on a self-aggrandizing display for the other members in a last-ditch effort to secure a nomination to the board. Michael passed Kenneth off to Javier, who led him to the den with the other submissives.
After he entered the room, he was sorry to see that neither Francesco nor Sam were there. He’d hoped to at least have the chance to tell them how highly he thought of them both. He’d spotted Aaron’s sporty red car outside, so he knew that Sam had to be with him. Master Aaron would never leave his precious boy behind, chained up and alone.
It brought it home to him even more than ever that his life was a joke. He couldn’t stay. He
had
to leave. As much as he wanted to give Saul a chance to come for him, if he didn’t take the opportunity to escape when he had it, he might never get it again. One thing was for sure—if he failed in his attempt, Preston would kill him for trying.
A few of the submissives were lounging on the carpet playing a game with marbles on a star-shaped board. A couple of others relaxed on a sofa, laughing and chatting. He knew them only in passing. They all had one major thing in common—they wore little or no clothing. It was the first thing Kenneth needed to take care of. He repressed a snort. He wouldn’t get far on the streets of Pasadena wearing only a cock restraint and leather harness.
Inching his way to the door, he kept an eye on the others out of his peripheral vision. They all seemed fairly preoccupied. If he was very lucky, no one would even notice if he slipped out. He doubted that, but possibly they wouldn’t make a fuss? His hand reached for the knob, his heart hammering against his ribs, his mind recalling the path back to his clothing.
Kenneth yelped as the handle turned under his grasp. He jumped back, hoping it wouldn’t appear to whoever was about to enter that he’d been planning to leave the room. His forehead was covered in sweat and he swiped at it. When he glanced back at the door, he inhaled sharply.
“Master Saul?”
Chapter Seven
Thank Christ, he’s in here.
Michael had been instructed to notify Saul or Aaron the moment Preston and Kenneth arrived. They’d known for certain that Preston would come to Hampton Road due to the nominations, but Saul had feared that he would once again leave Kenneth behind. It would’ve meant trying to get to him at Preston’s house, and while he’d been prepared to do just that, he wouldn’t have to risk what such a thing would entail after all. Preston had been directed to a nominees-only mixer in another part of the mansion, so they would be able to slip away while he was in attendance there.