Paid to Take Control Page 10

  “Okay,” Painter leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of Brio’s mouth, “Because you are a cuddle monster you get cuddles,”

  In some far corner of his brain Brio was aware that Painter had switched modes when he needed to, when Brio required it. The part of his brain that analyzed and made connections noted that for future consideration whilst the rest of him went offline and gave in to the need for skin to skin contact.

  Chapter Eight

  Painter and the unfortunate heart

  Brio was warm in his arms when Painter awoke. Above them, the glass skylight showed the pearly reds and pinks of dawn and Brio snuffled in his sleep and pressed his face against Painter’s chest.

  Painter lay there and let the self-loathing and joy battle it out in his head and his heart. He remembered the fierce exhilaration of manhandling Brio, catching him and pinning him and then the rush he felt when he flipped him and rutted up against his hard ass.

  He smiled, what a brat! Brio had wanted to play and Painter had held back too long and so Brio pushed - brave, wild, needy Brio. Painter found his hand had strayed to Brio’s hair and he was gently petting it.

  Brio had been amazing, so strong, so tough. When Painter had restrained him and tormented him Brio had kept on wanting him, kept asking for him, for his fingers and his cock, whatever Painter was willing to give him Brio would have taken.

  God, he was so proud of him.

  He was less proud of himself. He was unimpressed that it had taken Brio bringing out the brat to bat before he gave in and allowed himself sexual pleasure – it was a pointless denial, after all, he had jerked off night after night to mental images of dominating Brio. All he had achieved with his restraint was to fail to give Brio what he needed and wanted.

  He gave himself a minimum pass on how he had handled the restraint and teasing element of the scene. He gave Brio a resounded “A” for how he had responded.

  He allowed himself the indulgence of a whole five minutes of remembering the feel of Brio’s body around him, the tight heat of his hole, the way it spasmed around him, the look in the man’s eyes when Painter had let loose and nailed his prostate. Fuck Brio had been amazing.

  The feel of his cock lengthening against his thigh brought Painter back to the present and the biggest issue of all. He looked down at Brio’s face on his chest, the half-moon shadows of his lashes on his cheeks, the sleep flush across his high cheekbones, the pout of his lower lip, still swollen from Painter’s hard kisses. He sighed and gently maneuvered himself out from under Brio, sliding a pillow in for the man to snuggle against. He knelt beside the bed for a moment, just watching Brio, and his heart beat a sad steady tattoo against his ribs.

  Idiot, Painter chastised himself bitterly. He rubbed his hands across his face before bracing them carefully on the side of the bed and standing up. The mattress barely moved and Painter sent up a quick thank you to whoever might be listening above before he tip-toed across the room on silent feet. He made it out of the room without disturbing Brio who slept on deep and dreamless, sprawled across the bed all dark, messy hair and pale skin luminous in the dawn light.

  Painter gathered the clothes strewn around the playroom before he made his way to the bathroom. Once inside he slumped against the door, wondering what the hell to do now. There was nothing he wanted to do more than crawl back into bed beside Brio. He wanted to wrap his arms around his slim waist and pull him close, to wake him up with soft kisses to the back of his neck and a gentle hand cupping his cock. Like lovers, Painter thought, like two people who could fall in love, not like a Venditor and his Emptor, not like a professional Dom and his Sub.

  Thoughts like that about Brio were inappropriate and he needed to remember that. It was harder to think, harder to remember that when Brio was laid next to him, looking innocent and peaceful in his sleep.

  Brio, so much contrast wrapped up in one man. Genius and brat, but under it all, so soft, so beautiful and perfect and full of trust, happy to lay in Painter’s arms and oh, hell, he had to get his shit together.

  Brio didn’t want a relationship, Brio wouldn’t fall in love, that was clear from the start. Hell, the idea of a connection other than as Dom and Sub had not formed any part of the contract discussions. This contract was pure sexual needs only – no escorting, no dating, no boyfriend experience required. He would never act as Brio’s escort to restaurants or galas, he would never vacation with him, spend holidays with him, do the romance thing that so many Emptores considered a fundamental part of a contract. The best he and Brio could be to each other was friendly, they couldn’t even be friends. He needed to remember that.

  Painter set about taking a shower and getting dressed. He made it quick, a lick and a promise under the hot water and then made his way to the kitchen to try and get his game face in place before Brio got up. The smartest thing Painter could do at this point he figured was what he had done, get the hell out of that room before Brio woke up.

  Keep the boundaries, set the limits, hold the line, Painter reminded himself.

  That lasted approximately five minutes after Brio got up and appeared in the kitchen all kitten soft and sweet and sleep rumpled. Without saying anything Brio had sidled up to Painter and trustingly snuggled into his side and Painter was lost and his good intentions vanished like the steam that curled up from his coffee, the coffee he shared with Brio, holding him on his lap and letting him sip from his cup.

  ◆◆◆

  It started with a kiss on greeting, a warm press of lips, a little slip of tongue. It progressed onto laughing dinners and TV evenings and hot spankings and rough jerk offs, that lead to late-night cuddles and sleepovers with a dopey contented sub in his arms.

  This was all on him Painter thought later after the shit hit the fan. It wasn’t calculated, it wasn’t work, it just evolved that way.

  It was a slippery slope, the boyfriend experience with Brio, it all got a bit too domestic too fast with the added frisson of their growing dynamic. It was bound to go wrong.

  Painter took his eye off the ball. He forgot, for a little while, that Brio was a complex and demanding Sub with a history he hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of. He let himself pretend he understood Brio, he didn’t.

  The morning had been perfect. He had woken to Brio’s hot mouth around his cock and he had done what he wanted to because he could. He had rolled Brio onto his back, straddled his chest and fucked lazily into his throat.

  It had been wonderful; he had felt so powerful, looking down at that brilliant, beautiful man with his smart mouth stretched obscenely around Painter’s cock. He had taken him. Taken what he offered. He had pressed in deep until Brio had choked around his cock and his eyes had watered and then without warning Painter had come down his throat, enjoying what his sub offered because it was his right to have it.

  He had felt amazing afterward and Brio had been a mewling, wanton, sobbing mess when Painter had graciously returned the favor and brought him to orgasm with his mouth whilst holding his hips down hard enough to bruise.

  Brio had been unusually quiet at breakfast when Painter had waffled on about the day he had planned, and he had missed Brio’s reaction when he announced that today was the day he would do his own suspension bondage scene for the first time.

  Painter had been proud of himself, fatal mistake, and he had wanted Brio to share his excitement because it meant that he could suspend him after this. That was what he had meant. Nothing else.

  He had pressed a kiss to Brio’s forehead before he had rushed out of the door, he didn’t remember if Brio had said anything, he didn’t think he had.

  ◆◆◆

  The minute he entered the house that evening Painter knew he had made a mistake somewhere along the line. He could feel it in the air, a throbbing, a tension, and he knew this was his fault; something he had done had triggered what was coming rolling down the path towards him, whatever that may be.

  This was his Indiana Jones moment, he’d fucked up with the
golden statue and the bolder was on the move.

  He braced himself mentally, he had this, he could do this, he knew it had to happen eventually.

  “Did you have a good day at the office?” Brio strolled out of the kitchen wearing a charcoal grey suit and carrying a cup of tea. From the exquisite cut of his tailored jacket to the easy way he held the delicate porcelain cup, to the understated elegance of the dark brown leather strap on his Patek wristwatch, he looked like nothing other than out of Painter’s league.

  Painter was aware that he was too casually dressed, that he had a duffle slung over his shoulder that smelled like gym socks and he hadn’t shaved in three days. This was not how to holds his own with an Emptor.

  “How did it go?” Brio’s expression was calm, his voice had no edge of snark or bitchiness and Painter realized the man he would face tonight was a double doctorate holder who ran a multi-billion dollar company, a man who could neatly slice a human brain up whilst holding a conversation on cognitive resonance, an uber-human, evolved beyond what Painter was. This was a man he had never met before.

  “It went well,” Painter said evenly and carefully placed his duffle on the floor, “Tay was pleased and the sub said it was an easy suspension, she liked it,”

  “A female,” Brio quirked an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you played with females,”

  “I wasn’t ‘playing’ I was training,”

  “Of course, sorry,” Brio sounded anything but sorry, “But shouldn’t you be playing with males, females are anatomically different after all, the safety protocols would be different and you’re training for males, aren’t you? Me, being male, that is.”

  Painter’s mind was moving fast, he needed to get a handle on where this was going, what angle Brio was going to choose to play. Part of him, the dominant arching and flexing below his skin, was itching to take control and deal with this. Painter wasn’t confident enough to let him out, yet.

  “I’m not training to dominate men, I’m training, period. Doing the first suspension on a female sub made sense, they are lighter and more flexible.” He stepped up to Brio and let his height loom over the other man, “But for the record Brio I’m Pan, I’d ‘play’ with any gender, I don’t give a shit what they have under their clothes,”

  “How democratic,” Brio sneered,

  “Sexuality slurs, Brio, you want to do that?”

  “Hardly,” Brio’s voice was icy, “It is logical for Venditores to be pansexual though, bigger pool to fish in, more bucks to bang,”

  Painter could feel his dominant punching at the door of his control, “You’re going to look down on the system that made you a millionaire?”

  “I don’t work on the practical side of things,” Brio’s stare was cool and Painter realized just how different Delphic was for him and Brio.

  For Brio the Agency was a lab full of rats, all fucking and running in his maze and driving themselves mad with pleasure triggers. And Painter was one of those rats.

  He could practically feel Brio’s disdain.

  “Yeah, I work on the practical side of things, can’t apologize for that,” Painter felt very tired all of a sudden.

  “Your parent’s must be so proud,”

  Fuck, thought Painter, you had to go there didn’t you, you couldn’t just keep the moral high ground, you had to take a low blow.

  “Dead, Brio,” he said evenly, giving him every chance to end this now.

  “That must be a relief,” Brio said pleasantly, “Given how much you dislike yourself it would be even worse if your family saw what you did for a living,”

  And there it was. The dominant inside Painter threw his hands up in disgust and vanished into the darkness.

  Without a word Painter turned and left, he picked up his duffle and walked out the door. Behind him, there was the faint sound of Brio getting up and walking into the kitchen, the steady, even pace of his step on the floor, unhurried, nonchalant.

  ◆◆◆

  Painter leaned against his car and breathed deeply, trying to calm the pain inside. Tay had told him this moment would come, it always did, in all D/S relationships, and he had advised Painter to be prepared for it. And Painter had, he thought he was prepared until he wasn’t, and his only way of dealing with it was to walk away.

  He fumbled his phone out his pocket and thumbed Tay’s number.

  He closed his eyes and waited, hoping Tay was free.

  “What’s up man,” Tay’s voice was steady, “Got a feeling this isn’t a social call,”

  “No,”

  “Take it you met Mr. Emptor asshole,”

  “Yeah,”

  “You okay,”

  “Jesus, Tay,” Painter shook his head, “He ripped me open in seconds. He knew just where to push. He just sat there and calmly inserted a knife and twisted it. He didn’t even raise his fucking voice,”

  “No offense man but you're not exactly a complex case, anyone can see what you struggle with and push at that,”

  “Still stung,” Painter said, “And I still fucked it up, massively,”

  “What did you do?”

  “I walked out,”

  Tay’s sigh was heavy, “You got to get the fuck back in there and punish him, Paint,”

  “I can’t, I’m angry,”

  “Are you? You don’t sound angry to me,”

  “No,” Painter admitted, “I’m not, more hurt and disappointed,”

  “Why are you hurt?”

  “Because I didn’t think he thought of me like that, I thought he liked me,”

  “We could have a whole conversation about why you want him to like you but that’s beside the point. Whatever he said, he didn’t mean it, he was pressing your buttons, he was testing you”

  “If I go back in there I’ll hurt him,”

  “And that’s a bad thing in this context, why?”

  Painter slowly banged the back of head against the cold metal of the car and blew out a breath.

  “Let’s take it back to basics man,” Tay said, “Are you a fair man?”

  “Yes, I think so,”

  “And did Brio break the rules you had agreed upon,”

  “Yes,”

  “Did he know he broke the rules,” Tay’s calm run-through of the situation with him was helping.

  “God, yes, he did it on purpose, I just don’t know why,”

  “It doesn’t matter why, that’s a discussion for later, what you need to know now is that punishment is required under the terms of your agreement and that punishment will be fair because you are a fair man. What do you think he will think if you don’t punish him?”

  “He will think the rules don’t matter to me,”

  “And do they matter?”

  “Fuck yeah, and he matters,”

  “Then go in there and do it,” Tay’s voice was implacable, “Trust yourself, you’re a decent person remember, you always were, you still are,”

  “Okay,” Painter can hear the confidence creeping back into his voice,

  “And Paint, remember, every human interaction is an exercise in power, work out what power the other person is exerting and stop them doing it, that way you are in control.”

  ◆◆◆

  Brio had taken off his jacket and dragged his tie loose; he was stood in the kitchen staring aimlessly into the open fridge.

  When he heard Painter throw his duffle in the corner he jumped and turned and his eyes went huge at the look of Painter’s face, “Oh, fuck,” he breathed.

  “Yeah, oh fuck,” said Painter ominously, “Really, really, really, oh fuck,”

  Brio licked his lips nervously.

  “Did you want to carry on with the asshole Emptor routine or shall we get straight to the result of it?”

  Brio straightened his shoulders and said nothing.

  Painter could feel his dominant stretching to fill his skin, it felt delicious, like slipping on a well-tailored jacket.

  “You can walk downstairs, or I can drag you, the choice is yours,�
� Painter’s voice was calm.

  Brio didn’t say a word; he tilted his head up and quietly walked past Painter towards the stairs to the play suite undoing his shirt buttons as he went.

  Chapter Nine

  Brio and the pursuit of pain

  Painter cuffed Brio’s ankles to a spreader bar. “You need this Brio,” Painter said, “I need this. We don’t shame each other, we don’t manipulate each other, we don’t play games.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brio hung his head, “You were going on about your training and I was jealous, I wanted all your firsts in this,”

  “Well, you are about to get the first punishment I have ever handed out so congratulations,”

  Painter pulled Brio’s arms behind his back and cuffed his wrists to each other, “Elbows together,” he growled. Brio felt the tight pull of the bicep straps Painter wrapped around his upper arms, he swayed as Painter’s ministrations pulled him off balance.

  “Lean forward,” Brio felt the pressure of Painter’s hand between his shoulder blades and he bent forward at the waist, Painter holding him by the wrist cuffs.

  Fuck, strappado.

  “Find your balance,” Painter grunted as he attached a rope that ran from a ceiling anchor point to the D rings on the wrist cuffs. Brio balanced, the rope to the ceiling had enough give in it so it wouldn’t dislocate his shoulders if he fainted or fell and he could go up on his tiptoes to balance out the spread of his legs.

  “We need to get this out of the way between us,” Painter walked around in front of Brio and grabbed a fist full of his hair, he lifted his head so Brio could see himself in the mirror. His legs were spread wide, his arms up behind his back and his cock was visible hanging flaccid between his legs.

  “This is punishment,” Painter stated and Brio looked up at him, “This is not revenge, this is not anger, this is leveling the scales and it is because I want it,”

  “Yes, Sir,”

  “What is your safeword?”

  “Cabbage,” not even the faintest flicker of a smile crossed Painter’s face.