Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 709(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 709(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Max chuckled at the memory of their very first session, all three of them struggling to piece together the puzzle. Trey wanted to possess, to control, but not to aggressively dominate. Had no interest whatsoever in stark authority. Kelsey, on the other hand, Trey’s gentle little sub, had no penchant for pain infliction or overbearing behavior. He didn’t want to endure hardships, had no desire to earn rewards. What he craved was to be wielded for his master’s pleasure. To be Trey’s plaything, in the most literal sense, a love doll to enjoy in every way. Enabling Trey to recreate virtually any fantasy imaginable. If Trey could envision it, no matter how kinky, Kelsey was his willing participant.
Fortunately for Kelsey, Trey’s fetishes weren’t too dark. Nothing that’d cause emotional or physical pain. Which was a rarity in Doms, making Kelsey pretty lucky. Not that Trey wasn’t a happy camper, too. Kelsey’s soul-deep compliance was unparalleled.
Max watched the two moving in their seamless nirvana, remembering when things hadn’t been so easy. In the beginning, Trey was clueless how to give Kelsey direction, and Kelsey was horrendous at communication. Both men floundered, utterly lost at what to do, sexual frustration rolling off them in waves.
But after a couple sessions and a handful of exercises, Max finally discerned the method to their madness. Which, coincidentally, involved very little discourse. Instead of telling Kelsey, Trey showed him what he wanted. Using his hands, on Kelsey’s body, literally maneuvering him like a puppet. Taking what he wanted instead of waiting for it. Something that would quickly try a typical Dom’s patience, but Trey? Trey absolutely loved it. One hundred percent control over another man’s body to manipulate in any way he wanted. And not just for self-pleasure, but to detonate Kelsey, too. Again and again. Relentlessly at times. Like the master he was quickly becoming. Soon they wouldn’t need Max’s guidance any more. In truth, they didn’t much need it now.
Max gazed at the couple as they wordlessly made magic. Tonight they’d requested that he watch from afar. To see them in their true, private element. Something Max could totally appreciate. Things were always a little different when an outsider was watching. So Max had agreed and here he sat, scrutinizing their performance as they played. And man, what a performance. In all Max’s years, he’d never seen anything so… beautiful. The way Trey held Kelsey, carried him, possessed him. Maneuvering his sub from one position to another. Bending his body, angling him just so. Guiding him, contorting him, making love to every hole. On the floor, on the table, with Kelsey suspended. All without speaking. Without any instruction. Just soft, aroused sounds and unyielding eye contact. Treating Kelsey unquestionably like the sexual being he was, but also like a fragile fucking flower. And God, the way Kelsey conformed to him. To Trey’s every decadent whim. Sucking him, receiving him, in every imaginable way. Holding Trey’s gaze as Trey continuously repositioned him. Like some non-stop sensuous dance of muscles and limbs. Of large, guiding hands and sweat covered skin, and shallow breaths and quiet moans and… love.
Max frowned and looked down, suddenly not wanting to see. Because what they had he wanted. That spiritual exchange. That binding of souls. But with Max, he wanted it outside of BDSM. To experience it as Max, and not a Dom. Engaging with a partner, not a sub. He’d love it. Relish it. He knew he would. Because he used to do that kind of shit with Kevin. Used to touch him and fuck him and hold him that way. Back in a time when Max thought intimacy precious. When he wasn’t so jaded. And cold.
Exhaling hard, he sat up and leaned forward. Popped his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face. He was tired of being angry. It was a heavy fucking burden. But a burden that unfortunately was necessary. The only real mechanism Max found that ever worked. To help him cope. To fill his void. That yawning abyss in the center of his chest. Nothing else kept him functioning. Nothing else kept him sane. But that anger also kept him really lonely. Existing in the shadows, only living half alive. Max chuckled darkly and shook his head. His anger was his lifeline and his noose.
His gaze dropped to the floor as his brain shifted gears, bringing to mind another double-edged sword. In the form of a frisky, beautiful, blond-haired sub, who drove Max fucking wild and bat-shit crazy.
Sean. Fucking Sean. That little brat would be Max’s end. Not that Max wouldn’t die happy in the process. Or if nothing else, smiling, as he kicked it. Something Sean tended to make him do a lot. Too much, truth be told, which made Max wary.
That and the fact that, more often than not, Max couldn’t say no to the guy. Like earlier that day, when Sean showed up at Max’s class. He should’ve just told Sean to take a hike. To email him if he wanted a fucking favor. But instead of saying no, Max somehow convinced himself that saying yes, then punishing Sean after, would be better. Which in retrospect was an absolutely horrible idea. Doing anything with Sean outside of their sessions was asking for nothing but trouble. The kid was just too bold. Too flirty. Too pro-active. All things he couldn’t be in Max’s dungeon. Because in Max’s dungeon, Sean was obligated to abide by strict rules, which left him little room to fuck around. A psychological safeguard instilled in Max’s playroom that just didn’t exist anywhere else. Even under the pretense that, regardless of where they were, Sean was still Max’s acting sub when they were together.