Paid to Take Control Page 5
Then there were praises being whispered to him and Brio realized he was being held and stroked and told how good he was. Painter had slid onto the sofa and pulled Brio into his arms, nestled him against his chest, and was massaging his hands which felt tight and cramped from holding on to the back of his t-shirt.
The rest of the scene was fuzzy. Brio remembered Painter had encouraged him to his feet and supported him through to his bedroom.
Painter had wiped his face and then undressed him and Brio remembered that his cock had been hard; he thinks it was hard from the first stroke of Painter’s hand on his ass. Painter had resolutely ignored his erection as he had tucked him between the cool sheets. He remembered being sad about that. He didn’t want Painter to ignore his arousal. Brio would have welcomed it if Painter had done something with it for just for himself. He thinks he suggested as much but Painter had told him to go to sleep.
“I will stay here to make sure you are okay,” Painter had said before he pressed a chaste kiss to Brio’s forehead, “Go to sleep now, little genius, you need your rest,” and Brio had done as he was told, rolled over, curled up and slept.
Chapter Four
Painter and the reliable erection
Brio’s breaths were steady and even and he slept deeply, curled into a question mark on the bed and Painter could see the elegant line of his long limbs through the thin sheets.
Painter’s hand stung, the palm burned despite the conditioning it had received lately, but it didn’t burn as hard or as hot as his arousal and he hated himself for it.
Brio had been perfect. Well, Brio had been perfectly, Brio! And Painter found he liked that. The mercurial mood changes, the snark, and the insecurity that tempered his frightening intellect and physical beauty.
In the gym he had been all front, putting on a show and demonstrating that Painter did not have the upper hand. But then, in the living room, when he had folded himself over the arm of the sofa and bent his arms behind his back the act had dropped away and the man lying there had called to Painter without opening his mouth.
Painter rose quietly from his watch over Brio and moved out of the room. He needed to explore the house. Get the lay of the land because it seemed as though he would be spending a lot of time here.
Painter had resided in plenty of opulent homes – and opulent yachts and opulent cabins and on one memorable contract, an opulent plane – so he was used to the tastes of the rich and bland who bought a vision that wasn’t their own for their homes. Brio’s home was different. The house itself was cutting edge modern, glass and chrome with views of the city below and the snow-capped mountains in the distance, but it was also uniquely Brio. The kitchen was packed with gadgets – Painter blew a mental kiss to the state of the art coffee machine – but that was tempered by a shelf full of tattered cookery books covering every cuisine from classical French to modern Turkish, and a collection of clockwork egg timers was lined up on the beam over the range.
Painter picked one up, a yolk yellow plastic pot with an orange chicken on the top. When he picked it up the timer clicked over to zero and the pot vibrated wildly in his hand and the plastic chicken began to squawk loudly. “Shit,” Painter clamped his hand over the offensively loud thing and rotated the top until he managed to turn it off. He smiled as he carefully put it back in place.
Off the kitchen was a pantry with shelves packed with actual ingredients and staples – Fuck, Brio even had linseeds and flax seeds, Painter felt a batch of his signature home-made granola coming on.
He wandered out into the huge living room and tried to ignore the leather sofa he had bent Brio over earlier. God, the man had been so sensuous, even in sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. The graceful way his arms had settled into the bow of his lower back, the enticing curve of his buttocks revealed when Painter had eased his pants down. Plump and round, fuller than the rest of Brio’s slender frame, the twin globes had been pale and luminous in the low light until Painter had made them glow with a fiery passion. He felt his cock stirring again and had to reach down to adjust himself.
Becoming aroused from domination was something he was slowly getting used to. God knows he had spent most of the last three weeks with a persistent erection as he went through training in BDSM techniques and protocols.
Bearing that in mind he went in search of the playroom suite that Ash had told him was on the lower level of the house. He had to familiarise himself with the space, discuss it with his instructor back at Delphic and consider any changes he felt would be appropriate.
As he made his way down the stairway with its steel and wire handrail he knew it was now a foregone conclusion that he would take the contract. Training had been tough but enlightening, his instructor, Tay was awesome, he liked the guy a lot, and he was straight with Painter, which helped. He didn’t dismiss Painter’s concerns and issues out of hand as Ash did. Painter didn’t think Ash meant to but he was comfortable in his skin and his sexuality and his relationship with Richard. He couldn’t understand why Painter didn’t like his own Dominant nature.
Painter felt that Ash secretly thought he was stupid, and that galled him. Okay, he wasn’t in the same league as Brio, Ash, and Richard but he wasn’t an idiot. Or at least he hoped he wasn’t although given the way he had suppressed his nature so effectively the jury was kind of out on his self-perception at the very least.
The playroom suite was at the other end of the corridor from the gym. By the side of the unobtrusive door, a glass wall looked out over a night lit reflecting pool, all dark water, and moonlit gravel. Painter noticed that the wall was cantilevered so it could be swung open and the pool reached from this level. It would be a pleasant and tranquil place to sit and relax in either before or after scenes – Tay had stressed that Painter needed to develop a calm center and recommended yoga and meditation.
Painter opened the door to the play suite and lights automatically flickered to life.
He didn’t know exactly what he had expected; he had no frame of reference other than porn which Tay had told him to stop watching immediately. So far he and Tay had worked in a room that resembled a gym as much as anything.
Tay had said he would be taking him to a local club soon to see real-life situations and Painter imagined that would give him more insight into play spaces, but right now he had one in front of him and he needed to nut up and explore it.
With a mental squaring of his shoulders, he stepping into Brio’s play space and looked around.
He knew there was more than one room so he crossed the playroom to explore the furthest spaces first. Off the main play area, he found a small, cozy bedroom, a four-poster bed without a canopy filled nearly the whole room, and was positioned below what looked to a glass skylight. The floor was thickly carpeted and the colors were muted gold and grey, calming and intimate.
Next to the bedroom was a genuine playroom. Painter knew that when it all got too much for Brio he would regress to a childlike state and this must be where he went when that happened. In the day time it would be a bright room, with a large bank of glass doors out onto the garden. Across three walls ran a vibrant mural of dinosaurs. In the background, a volcano was blowing its top so that smoke and lava bombs trailed across the ceiling. There was a bookcase crammed with well-thumbed books and a Jurassic World’s worth of dinosaur models were battling for control of the earth on a play mat.
There was a low day bed made up with linens emblazoned with what Painter could only think of as a very irritated velociraptor. He picked up a plush, stuffed dinosaur that was squatting on an oversized rocking chair – clearly, Little Brio liked dinosaurs!
Painter sighed wistfully, he knew that according to the contract this was a non-sexual thing for Brio, this was his safe space, and any time he was in here he would be watching over Brio, protecting him, nurturing him. It wasn’t a bad thought.
Painter put the stuffie back on the rocking chair and went in search of the bathroom.
He found that it was possible to acce
ss the bathroom from all three rooms and it was huge – tiled in bumpy white ceramics and floored with thick nonslip cushioned flooring it had a massive walk-in shower with enema attachment, a sunken tub, and a seating area with a multi-draw cabinet worryingly full of medical supplies from anti-bacterial wipes to disposable suture kits.
Finally, he made his way back to the main play area, ready to give it the attention it deserved.
Within seconds of starting to explore the room Painter felt his cock chubbing up in his jeans.
The room was large and windowless; the two longest walls were brick painted a warm off white, the floor was both sprung and padded and the ceiling was a midnight blue gloss crossed with tracked lighting and sliders that held anchor points of metal rings and hooks.
One wall had a range of modern handleless cabinets and drawers. When Painter pressed the exterior of a drawer it slid out silently. The interior was carefully sorted into plugs, vibrators, and dildos. Other cabinets held ropes – a stunning variety, all soft and well prepared – manacles and gags, spreader bars and impact toys of every description.
There were a man-sized cage and a versatile style of spanking bench upholstered in blue leather that Painter was familiar with. One corner of the room was set up as a seating and recovery area. A single leather armchair had a kneeling pillow positioned beside it, and there was a small fridge next to a wide sofa with a plethora of throws, quilts, and pillows.
However, it was the two shorter walls that stirred Painter the most and sent his arousal from simmering to a full-on erection.
One was a wall of built-in restraints on slide-out blocks that allowed the dominant to arrange the sub however he wanted, as open and accessible as desired.
Across from this wall, in front of the blue leather spanking bench, was a dark paneled wall inset with a floor to ceiling mirror. It was positioned so a sub being played with could see their own submission reflected in it, whilst the dominant could watch themselves take…
Stop anonymizing this, Painter said to himself, man up and admit it, it will be you and Brio, you will watch yourself taking, he will watch himself submit, to you.
Whoever put the mirror there knew how to play with humiliation and power, Painter thought, the two edges of this d/s blade.
It wasn’t always the complicated shit that caused the hottest scenarios. A mirror, like that, was simply perfect.
If Brio was on his knees sucking him off Painter could admire his beautiful back and gorgeous ass. He palmed himself through his jeans. Spanking Brio earlier had left him thrumming with his arousal. Brio had been beautifully hard when Painter had put him to bed, but it had been nothing compared to the erection that had been trying to bite its way out of Painter’s jeans.
He leaned against the spanking bench – it was the perfect cock height for him – and considered the mirror. He imagined Brio on the bench, restrained ass up, his skin slick with hot sweat as Painter worked him over with his hand. Every time Brio raised his head he would see himself in the mirror, tied down and vulnerable, his eyes would be dark with arousal and swimming with tears. He would be able to see Painter behind him, see every time he raised his hand, and know the next strike was imminent.
Before he knew it Painter was stood at the foot of the bench and his hard cock was in his hand. He looked down at himself, his hand working steadily over his long length. He pressed his cock down and rubbed the wet tip against the grained blue leather of the bench. It left a dark stripe behind.
It was no feat of the imagination for Painter to imagine the panting sounds Brio would make when he roughly spread his hot cheeks apart and rested his cock on his hole. Brio would look up and his eyes would meet Painter’s in the mirror.
Painter imagined the look on Brio’s face, his mouth would hang open and his eyes would be begging for more.
He groaned softly and his hand sped up. Brio’s ass had been so hot under his hand, the abused flesh red and radiating. Painter would drape himself over Brio’s back, grind his cock against his pain. He could reach forward and hook his finger into Brio’s mouth, stretch his lips apart and ask him how he wanted it, in his ass or his mouth, not that it mattered, Painter was going to be the one to decide, and that was all part of the tease.
Tears would track down Brio’s face and his obscenely gaping mouth would spill grunts that Painter would pretend to consider.
They would keep watching each other in the mirror. Painter would rut his cock against Brio and tell him what he was going to do and how Brio was going to respond and Brio’s eyes would go liquid with submission and he would arch back against Painter as much as his restraints would allow.
Painter was leaning one-handed on the spanking bench now, he stripped his cock hard and fast, using only a spit slick palm and his pre-come to lubricate the way. He was panting and the images of Brio were crystal clear in his head.
He would fuck the boy, drive himself into that perfectly positioned pliant body, he would twist his hand into Brio’s shaggy black hair and haul his head back to look himself in the eye as Painter took him.
Fuck, fuck, he was going to come. He could hear his breaths panting, the prickle in his lower spine, the tension ratcheting higher between his hip bones. “Yes, oh god, yes,” he was coming all over the blue leather, and in his head Brio screamed and writhed beneath him all hot skin and tight, convulsing ass.
◆◆◆
Tay was running ropes through his hands when Painter entered the training room, he raised a hand in acknowledgment and a broad smile brightened his usually grim face when he saw Painter had brought coffee.
He crossed the room, gratefully taking the venti from Painter, “Three espresso shots?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Painter, “I like my shibari instructor to be totally wired before he suspends a sub!”
“Fuck off,” said Tay without malice, “It would take more than three shots to get me wired, and we don’t have to worry anyway, we have the world’s most obedient rope bunny today, he could tie himself if I asked him to,”
“But I much prefer it when you do it, Sir,” a young man had slipped through the door behind Painter. He was small but sturdy and his smile was sunny and enthusiastic, “But I could do it if you really wanted me to,”
“Painter, this is Birch, we’re lucky to have him today, he’s preparing to go out on one of Cash’s specialist contracts,” he dropped a kiss on the young man’s buzz cut of dark hair, “And he is the sweetest sub in the building,”
It never ceased to amaze Painter that there was a whole additional dimension to Delphic that he never knew about despite working for the agency for ten years. Beneath his familiar world of vanilla contracts, regular assessments, and endless bureaucracy there was another ecosystem of dominants and submissives, specialist contracts, and sexual training.
“Okay,” Tay knocked back his coffee, “Shall we get started little Birch?”
“Yes Sir,”
“Okay, strip off sweetheart and kneel for me in the center of the mat, I’m going to brief Painter here and then we’ll join you. Waiting position please Birch, head down,”
“Yes Sir,”
“We’re going to do a suspension today,” Tay said, “Not because I think you are ready to do one yet but I want you to see where you are going and how good it can be for the sub.” Painter was once again grateful for Tay and his insistence on structuring their lesson in such a way as to positively reinforce the dominant aspects of Painter’s personality.
If it wasn’t for the fantasies which more and more were impinging on his day to day life, Painter would be feeling a lot better about accepting this part of his personality, just because of Tay.
Tay wiped the remnants of coffee from the corner of his mouth and his voiced lowered, “There is going to be a sexual component to this, it won’t involve you in a hands-on way, you’ll just be watching, but Cash has instructed that he wants Birch to experience orgasm with two dominants in the room,” he glanced over at the boy who now knelt na
ked on the mat, his posture perfectly relaxed, his hands curled palm up on his spread thighs, “It’s something to do with this specialist contract he’s preparing for. I’m going to suspend him, edge him a little bit, nothing too intense, and then let him orgasm. When he comes I want you close so he can feel the dynamic but you don’t need to do anything to him.
“I’d also like your help with aftercare, help me rub him down and get him back into his outdoor headspace. He’s a placid little thing, real even-tempered, so he won’t be hard work, he bounces back real quick from stuff like this and trots off happy as a lamb usually,”
“You say usually, could the two doms be a problem?”
Tay smiled encouragingly, obviously pleased that Painter had spotted the possible pitfall, “I don’t think it will be a problem, he knows me well and trusts me, he knows I’m not going to share him with you nor am I going to get anything out of this myself,”
“What if he safewords?”
Tay picks up on Painter’s unspoken question, “If either he or you safeword the usual protocols apply, everything stops, Birch gets cut out of the ropes, and everyone regroups and talks about it.”
“Okay, got it,”
“Okay, we’re going to start, I’ll talk you through the ties and the anchors, Birch will just go all dopey in the rope but if you have questions please respect his headspace and be sensitive, I know you will, but it bears mentioning,”
“Got it,” Painter gave Tay a more confident thumbs up than he felt.
◆◆◆
As Tay had said, Birch was, without questions, an utter rope bunny. Before Tay had finished weaving the harness around his chest Birch was doe-eyed and dopey. He moved fluidly under Tay’s whispered instructions and by the time Tay encouraged him to his feet and tied the first suspension line from the chest tie to the ceiling ring Birch was deep in subspace.