| Chace Crawford and Mark Callaway - Meeting again
||[Aug. 7th, 2009|11:57 pm]
[Takes place Aug. 3- Comments screened and loved]
[Disclaimer: Yeah, it's rushed. Yeah, not the best on believability. Blame the pups wanting to get where they're going. Trust us, we can write better.]
(Just some whipping)
His time in Texas has been better than he'd hoped for. Adam and he seemed to hit it off, having drinks a couple of times after work. Having the last day and a half off was good but to him it only makes for very long days and makes that knot in his stomach that much larger as he nears the door to the room he's to meet the client in. The man is nothing spectacular - average height and weight, look of a typical cowboy - and Chace settles in for what he knows will be a damn boring scene. The man, who introduces himself as Dusty, puts Chace in the center of the room, does a few strikes with a singletail then, after inserting a medium-sized plug, puts Chace in a collar and leads him to the bar.
What a way to start back after a day off! he grumbles to himself as he kneels beside the man in the bar, the plug just enough stimulation to be annoying as hell.
Mark checks the computer in the bar, seeing which of his regulars are free. Damn, not that many. And none of my real favorites. Maybe find a new one?
He glances as he feels someone walking past him leading a boy, then looks again. That boy looks familiar... When it looks like they'll be there for a bit, he turns back to the computer. I'll check the boy out in a minute. If he's one of mine, I'll see about getting him when he's free
There are a few things Chace takes pride in knowing he can do, one being space completely out while keeping absolute perfect posture. He kneels there until he's certain that standing will be impossible since his feet are now numb as hell, which would be grand if the man beside him seemed to have a plan, but other than a periodic hand in his hair, Chace is basically ignored. If ya wanted a fucking poodle, ya should've went to the pound, not rented a fucking boy! He begins to zone out once again then snaps to as he catches sight of someone. The man...it is!
Nothing. Grumbling, Mark walks over to the bar. He passes the man with the boy and looks again, then stops. "Boy? What the hell you doing here?" Ignoring the man, Mark grabs the boy by his chin and makes him look up. "And how the hell was I not told? I put you on my list special! How long you been here?"
There's a very real and large part of Chace that wants to absolutely cling to Mark's feet and beg him to haul him away from the King of Boredom that rented him and he nearly loses it in a fit of giggles at the shocked look on Dusty's face as Mark suddenly takes control of him. "Just a few days, Sir. 'm fillin in for someone who had a family thing." Chace glances to Dusty then back to Mark. "This is Dusty, Sir."
Mark glances at the man, then glares at him. "You got a boy calling you by your name?! What the hell kinda Dom are you? Have you read this boy's file? You got him sitting like a lap dog instead of working his ass? You can grab any boy off the street for just that. There are no one stripers that you could be wasting their time?"
Chace's eyes go wide - nearly as wide as Dusty's - and it takes a hard bite to the inside of his cheek to not stand up and absolutely cheer Mark onward. Go Team! Er..Sir, woohoo! Kick 'is ass!
With a snort, Dusty shoves Chace forward to present the few stripes across soft skin. "I worked 'im over some before we come down, if it's any concern to you." Dusty glances down to Chace and almost lovingly strokes his hands through the dark hair. "Our time's almost up, I'm afraid."
There's a pause, then Mark falls against the table with laughter. "You call that...seriously? Time's up? What the hell you hire him for, ten minutes? If he can even move, you ain't done your job." He turns to the boy. "You got anyone after this idiot?"
There's not any point in lying to Mark, Chace knows he'll see the moment he tries to stand. "He's had me little over an hour or so, Sir." Chace glances to Dusty then turns back to look up at Mark. "Been here most of it, and no Sir. No other that I know of, not 'nless someone's got me and I don't know yet."
"You do now." Mark takes his card out of his wallet and slaps it on the table. "Get us a room, they know what I like. You let me know when it's ready. And you!" He turns to Dusty. "You learn how to be a real man before you ruin some good boy." He growls, taking a step towards the other guy as he shows signs of speaking. "Do it!" A last look before he continues on to the bar.
Chace has learned one thing from the times this man has paid for his time - it's not wise to piss off a man with hands the size of platters and, as Dusty begins to speak, Chace actually jumps at the sound of Mark's voice as it seems to reverberate through every bone in his body. "Yes Sir," he says as he snags the card then crawls toward the bar.
"Two shots of Jack and a beer." Slamming the shots down as soon they're put in front of him, Mark forces himself to take a breath. "Stupid damn assholes. Think they know how to play. Fucking dumbass kids are what they are." He glances around to see if the boy is back yet.
He sees Mark looking around and, finally gaining use of his numb feet, pushes to stand as he goes the last several feet toward the man who seems to loom over every other body at the bar. Apparently the 'it's bigger in Texas' thing went double for Mark, he thinks to himself as he holds the card out. "They said the room will be ready by the time you reach it, Sir."
"Good." Taking the card back, Mark just shoves it into his pocket. "Filling in for someone, huh?" He chuckles. "How do I always catch you after some jackass has his hands on you?" He turns to face the boy, looking him over. "I got so many ideas fighting in my head, not sure which one to do first to you."
"Yes Sir, filling in, and..." he smiles upward, "suppose 'm just lucky. Had a decent scene a couple days ago." The look on Mark's face, the power in the man's eyes causes Chace to freeze and his blood seem to stop. "Ideas Sir? Are these ideas that were there for another boy, or for this one in particular?" Chace's mind flashes back to the man's ranch and he shivers.
Mark growls as he grabs the boy by the throat and pulls him closer. "Maybe you forgot how to act towards a real Dom. Let me remind you. You don't get to question me. You're here to suffer the way I want you to." He gives him a little shake. "Understand?"
Fuck yes! Chace groans as Mark grabs him, pulls him in, and every molecule inside him responds to the hand at his throat. He knows it says it in his file, but it really does take a certain Dom to make breath play work. "Forgive me, please Sir," he says, swallowing against Mark's hand. "Yes, understood."
Mark stares at the boy, then tightens his grip a little more. His other hand moves down the boy's body and strokes his cock. He pulls him in a little closer, eyes on the boy's face to catch every expression.
"What else do you need, boy? What have they not been giving you?"
As it becomes just the slightest bit harder to breathe, Chace can already feel himself trying to slip into whatever state it is that this sort of pain seems to settle him in and he fights it with everything he is - wanting to experience more before escaping to headspace.
"This boy wants to hurt, Sir," he pushes out past the man's strong hold. "In whatever way Sir sees fit."
"Then you will." Mark slings the boy over his shoulder and heads toward the room. Kicking the door shut behind him, he drops the boy on the floor. "Strip!" He moves to the table with the toys, checking that they're all there. Picking up the chain flogger, he turns to the boy. "That chain hanging over your head, get up and grab hold of it. Don't you let go." The instant the boy has a good grip, the first strike lands.
He suddenly feels like the captive being hauled off by a caveman as he's bounced and jostled over Mark's shoulder, grunting deeply as he's suddenly dropped to the floor. Scrambling to stand and strip at the order, Chace knows better than to question as he slips from the simple black, cotton pants to stand naked, his eyes on the flogger. "No Sir, I won't," he says, barely getting a tight grip before the first blow lands and he screams out, twisting away from the pain.
"Close your eyes and keep them closed." Mark lifts the chain so the boy swings free with each hit. There's no pattern to the hits, whichever side of the boy is facing him gets it. The only place out of bounds is the upper back with the way the boy is spinning. After a couple of minutes he waits til the boy's back is to him. "Open your legs wide. I want them screaming from not being able to go any further apart. Hold that position!"
It doesn't matter that he's only a two-stripe, it doesn't matter than he'll likely carry marks from hits for days - all that matters is the beautiful pain and the way his mind and body seem to be reacting to it. Even though Chace's eyes are closed, he swears he can see every hit before it lands, hear the metal falls as they whistle through the air to find his flesh over and over. "Yes Sir, yes! I will...I will..." Chace knows, as he spreads his legs, the pain his cock and balls felt the last time the man wielded something and his legs were open and he braces for it this time.
Timing it just right, Mark brings the flogger to come up between the boy's legs, hitting his thighs as well as his cock and balls. He stands back, letting the pain roll through the boy before hitting him again. The strikes come slower now, the time between each becoming longer and longer.
"Aaahhhh!" Chace's entire body jerks against the pain as his stomach lurches and he begins to swallow, violently trying to keep the bile down in his throat. He wants to beg, to plead with the man who swings the flogger but there are no words only screams of pain that mingle lewdly with moans of pleasure as his cock and balls swell and redden from the assault against them.
Mark smiles at the moans as much as at the screams. This boy is special, especially for a two stripe. The 'something else' he sensed at his house is playing in his head again. "You shouldn't be bothering with jackasses like that one. You should only be handled by real men. Ones who will appreciate what you can do."
"Pays...pays for me, Sir! They pay for my time!" Even in the throes of a pleasure that he's only felt at the hands of this man, Chace can't hold back the sobs as he struggles to keep his legs open in the position Mark ordered. Muscles tremble and shake all the while his cock throbs in pain as strands of precome leak from the tip. He knows without a doubt the next days will be interesting between his legs.
Mark snorts. "You should have the right to say no to idiots like that." He laughs suddenly. "You need a Vince to look after you. Only own all your ass instead of half."
His sobs slowly ebb as he tries to focus on the man's words. Chace remembers that name - Vince - remembers it from the talk in the plane from last time. "Vince, Sir? I don't understand." His voice cracks as he speaks, still struggling to hold the position.
"Vince. My boss. Owns the character I play, and me when I play him." Mark sets the flogger down, moving to look closer at the marks he's left. "Keep those legs open." His hands are rough as they travel over the boy's skin. "This is how you should be all the time."
Owned. Chace lets himself dwell on the idea for a moment, the thought of being completely owned filling his head until his mind explodes in pain once more as a hand plays roughly over damaged skin. "Yes Sir, trying...doing...doing my best, Sir. It...uhhh, it's hard Sir!" Lean muscles tense and flex as he fights against the pain in his thighs.
Mark grabs the boy by the chin to look at him. "If it wasn't hard, I wouldn't be making you do it, would I?" He slaps the boy's ass as he goes back to the toys. "I should find that idiot, parade you in front of him so he knows what real marks are."
"No Sir, no you wouldn't, you...agh!" Chace is smart enough to know that the final remark from the man is rhetorical at best and that any comment on his own part isn't needed. "Muscles..." he whispers out, "cramping up. Cramping Sir!" He feels Mark move away more than sees it and as much as he wants to see where the man went, he doesn't want to see what's next.
"Give me a reason to let you rest. Why should I?" Mark turns and smiles as he crosses his arms. "Now I want to see how long you can last."
The bad thing is, Chace, regardless of how he tries, can't come up with a valid reason at the moment to be let down other than his muscles aching. "Don't have a reason, Sir," he stammers out, "can't think...can't...fuck!" Toes go straight as he forces his legs outward to prevent the curling up the muscles so desperately want.
"But you'll do it for me. Because I tell you to." Mark lowers his voice as he moves closer. "To make me happy, to make me proud, you will. Won't you?" He rests his hand on the boy's cheek, staring into his eyes. And wondering to himself why he is.
Chace knows he will; he'll do as the man tells him to until his mind and body can absolutely go no further. Mark gives him everything he's desired for as long as he can remember - fear, pain, desire, need, pleasure - and wraps it up in a beautiful package that has Chace's head swimming. "Yes Sir," he grunts out as he turns into the touch, "yes. Do my best to make you proud."
"You would do anything for the Sir. Like a good boy should." Mark can see something in the boy's eyes, but can't decipher it. "Tell me what you're thinking. There's something going on. I can feel it."
"This boy only wants to please you," he sobs out as his muscles scream for release from the position. "Sir's so good with the pain, so perfect at giving it that this boy doesn't want to let him down!"
"Is that all?" Mark's grip on the boy's jaw is painful. His voice lowers into a growl. "Tell me, or I will never hire you again. Do not lie, or I will leave you here."
Chace can't do it - between the grip to his chin and Mark's words, his concentration fails, his legs snap closed against his ravaged balls and his scream echoes in the room, filling the air around them. "This boy wants you to take him to places he can't go, not as a two-stripe Sir." He knows the results of breaking the rules when hiring a boy and he can't let that happen here. "Sorry, I'm sorry Sir. I tried to hold the position Sir, I did."
Mark can't help the smile at the boy's screams, but is surprised enough by his words to let him go. "Places you can't go? What the hell you talking about? You're going for that third stripe."
He knows if he keeps it inside, Mark may very well be able to see, but saying the words means he stands the chance of putting this man off forever. "The last stripe takes time, Sir...takes training." Just say it! He can only walk away once! Chace's head drops forward. "It also means that I'll be marked by someone other than you." He's let it happen - he's grown attached to a sir.
"Is that...is it..." Mark can't find the words for a thought he's not sure is fully there. "Let go of the chain." He wipes at his face as he turns away. "I can't be the only one who's worked you this hard. Not all of them could have been like that idiot."
The moment the word is given, Chace's hands let go and he sinks to the floor, legs unable to support his weight, feeling as if he's let this man down in some way. "Two stripes, Sir. They've not been allowed to mark me," he pants out. "Most won't mark up a boy that's not theirs. Especially not a Citadel one. It'd be breaking my contract."
"So how do you know?" Mark's back is still to the boy. "How do you know you don't want to be marked by someone else? What is different?"
Blue eyes close as he realizes he's very likely ruined the only thing that's ever touched where he's wanted to go. Chace's head sinks forward, shoulders drop as he curses himself for his own fuck-up. "You're the only one to even remotely touch where my body and mind needs to be."
"And where is that?" There is almost wonder in Mark's voice. He knows his reputation with the House boys and is proud of it. But what this boy is saying...it is beyond just that. But how he still can't work out.
If he's ruined his time with the man, then so be it, what's said is done and there's no reason to hold back now. Chace's lids close slightly, his eyes lower, as if he's seeing where he should be. "A place of ultimate pain, wonderful pleasure," he murmurs, "and not being able to tell the difference. 've left two relationships because they couldn't...couldn't own me."
"Own you?" The words make Mark turn back around to look at the boy. He takes in how the boy is sitting, the expression on his face. Mark takes a step toward him, then stops. He sees another boy now and his face hardens. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Chace lifts his face then, his voice stronger, more sure as he slowly regains a bit of his strength. "But I do," he says with quiet but firm resolve, "I know exactly what I'm talking about Sir. I've looked for it for years." Blue eyes lower once more. "Thought I'd find it in Citadel, but regardless of the scene, the way you feel owned during, you still go home alone. Remembering the pain."
"Go home alone." Mark remembers the conversation at his home now. Remembers the boy's words, how he felt on hearing them. "And what makes you think I can do that for you? The Citadel is a fantasy we share in. It's not the outside world. Knowing someone an hour at a time doesn't mean you can say how they are." He smirks. "Trust me on that. There are millions of people who think they know me. Who have made me what they want me to be. I'm the darkest evil. The Deadman who feels no pain. The heel they wish they could be. The dark mage who brings fear."
He sits there thinking for a moment. "If you could or couldn't would be up to you, Sir. I only know since I first found out what pain does, how I react to it, the times you've hired me have been the hardest and most amazing times. Citadel is my reality Sir, my fantasy would be to find someone to serve full-time." Chace can't stop the small chuckle as he shakes his head. "No Sir, not for an hour, even two, but I know you well enough to know the items in your barn are on the wall alphabetically." He looks up then, eyes falling to Mark's face. "I had no clue who you were the first time you hired me. Who you are in the ring isn't what interests me, isn't what I need, it's what you do to me the moment you enter the room."
"And what is that? Exactly what do I do to you that you need? Why do you want to serve me?" Mark kneels down in front of the boy. "How does the pain I give you make you want to be mine?"
His eyes stay on Mark as the man kneels down in front of him. "There are a lot of clients call themselves master, most couldn't bring blood for anything. I believe you not only could but would readily do so." Aware he's putting both feet in his mouth by continuing, he still goes on. "What you give consumes me for days after. It's all I can think of. All I want."
"And what can you give me?" Mark is still fighting this. It's touching something inside him too close, something he had resigned himself to never fulfilling. He was disappointed once, he will not let it happen again. No matter how attractive the offer presents itself. "Why should I want you?"
Chace can hear it in the man's voice and he kicks himself for possibly screwing up the only scenes he actually looks forward to. He shrugs softly as he shifts on the floor, wincing at the pain between his legs. "I don't know what you're lookin' for in a slave, or even if ya want one. And I could only give you one thing." Chace meets Mark's eyes and holds the gaze. "My life."
"Your life." Mark licks his lips. "What does that mean to you? What does giving your life mean?" It's the last question he can ask, the answer meaning everything. "It's a phrase people tend to throw around, not meaning it like it sounds."
He's spent years wanting it, he knows exactly what he wants and what that encompasses. "You'd own me, everything about me and for long as you wanted me, I'd do as you say. Or, do my best to, anyway." Chace worries at his lip for a moment then looks around the room. "I can be a sub here, what I want 's to be a slave."
"How long do you have on your contract?" Mark can't believe the words as he says them.
Not realizing Mark is asking for anything other than simple curiosity, Chace shrugs. "Around six months, Sir. Guess if the training for a three happens, it'll be in there somewhere."
"And if you didn't train for a three, if something came up and you couldn't..." You can't be thinking this. Are you really thinking this!? Mark stares hard at the boy in front of him, nervous for the first time in a long time.
Chace shifts, as much from the stare as from the throbbing between his legs, then shrugs. "I guess things happen, life and all that." He studies Mark for a moment, trying to get a bead on why the man seems so curious. "Guess I'd hope to find something else." What, he doesn't know since there aren't many positions for masochist in general population.
"Stay here." Mark gets up and walks out of the room. It's a long while before he returns, a piece of folded paper in his hand. He stands over the boy and takes a deep breath. "Stand up and look at me."
For the longest time after the man leaves him there, Chace wonders if he'll actually return but, as he sits there, is more than thankful for the time to gather himself. As the door opens and Mark steps toward him, Chace looks up, trying to read the look on the strong features then pushes to stand, swaying slightly. "Yes Sir?"
He opens the paper and holds it out. "That is what it will cost to buy out your contract. I have to decide if you're worth it. If you're worth owning."
Chace stares with wide blue eyes at the slip of paper before his eyes travel up to Mark's face. "B...b...buy out my contract?" He suddenly sounds like he's just been goosed, voice a full octave higher than normal. "You'd buy me?"
"There was a boy. I thought he was worth it. But he wasn't. He failed me. I didn't appreciate that. I still don't. If I do this and you fail me, that's it. You're out and I don't care what happens to you. I'm not sure if the Citadel will take you back where you were or make you start over or what. And I won't care. If they do, I'll never hire you again. I won't even acknowledge your existence if we happen to cross paths."
He almost thinks better of it, but can't stop himself as he takes a step forward, his eyes on the other man. There have been very few times in his life that have left him speechless and ever fewer that have completely stunned him - this is one. The fact that this man would consider owning him is nearly beyond his comprehension. "How did he fail you? If ya don't mind me askin, Sir." Ways flash through Chace's mind and he dismisses each one, wondering how a sub could displease this man and still live to tell of it.
"He promised everything he was to me. Total ownership of himself. He did not carry that though. He wanted limits to what I could have of him. To what he would do. There can be no limits. There's all or there is nothing."
Chace's heart slams against his chest as he plays the words over in his head. All or nothing. How long has he waited for someone to actually give him that - someone that could actually give the pain and pleasure that he desires? "He surrendered to you then put limits on that?" His head shakes as he takes another step.
" 'I give you my life,' he said. He never dreamed to what extent I would hold him to that promise. How serious I was. When he realized, he thought he could change my mind about it. That I would keep him and play the game his way. He was wrong."
He still can't believe it; he's standing here talking with a man that has given him the best pain, the most amazing sensations of his life and there was a boy before him that hadn't wanted it. "There's a difference in a sir keeping a boy and a slave being owned." Chace squares his shoulders, struggling to hold his features steady as he looks down to the paper. "I'm a boy here, been one nearly two years, and every night I go home wanting more."
"If I pay this, I will own you. In every possible meaning of the word. Even in the bad meaning. Money will have changed hands over your body and who gets to decide what happens to it. I. Will. Own you. I will tell you, you will obey. 'No' is not going to be part of your vocabulary. You will have no voice in any decision. You will not be a person unless I decide it. You won't be a boy, just something I own."
Chace can actually feel his body hum as he stands there listening to the description; a definition of what he's wanted to be as far back as the very first hard on at his very first paddling. He's not been given permission to come, but dear fucking christ if the man keep up, Chace is going to embarrass himself right there. "I can't promise I won't fight against you sometimes, human nature 's to struggle at what hurts...even the good pain. I can promise to allow you to do with me as you see fit." Is this really happening? Finally? After all this time?
"You will not have any friends, any family over. Not til I say, til I believe that you know your place." Mark reaches out and grips the boy by the throat to pull him closer. "Til you know and accept that you are my property."
Blue eyes close as he's pulled in by the throat and he fights to keep hold of the single silken thread of control that he still has. "My only family's dead," he murmurs as he feels his pulse against Mark's hand, "move so much between Houses my friends are Citadel boys." His eyes open then to meet Mark's fierce gaze. "Make me yours."
"You have a couple of days left here. Spend it getting rid of everything you have. House, car, sell them. All your money will come to me. You will come to me with the clothes you brought. You won't be needing them for long." His grip tightens just a little. "You will own nothing, be nothing."
That's it, punishment be damned, Chace's body loses the grip and he comes. He couldn't have stopped it had his very life depended on it. Ignoring his climax, praying Mark doesn't notice, Chace squirms at the grip to his neck. "Yes Sir, I understand. Show up at your house with nothing."
"No, you'll call me and I will pick you up." Mark runs a finger down the boy's face. "Nothings have no way to get anywhere. You won't have money for a cab, won't have a car." He hides his smile the boy's reaction. He's made a good choice this time. "Every paper you have that says you're you? I want. I'm going to keep them and the money." He leans into his face. "Pray you never give me a reason to give them back to you."
Absolutely terrified at what's to come and utterly delusional with pleasure that it will, Chace keeps willing himself to wake up. If this is a dream, he needs to wake up, needs to snap out of it and convince himself it's not real. The grip, however, on his throat and the heat from Mark's breath tells him it is. "Don't own my place Sir, don't own a car," he pants out, his own heat radiating from him, "but will do as you said." Some people are born to be president, others born to be musicians or CEO's of companies, Chace firmly believes this is what he's meant to be. "I won't want them back, ever."
"Wanting is one thing. Do everything to not have them handed back to you is another. You do whatever you need to do where ever you need to do it, then you fly your ass back here. By the time you call me to pick you up at the airport, everything and I mean everything had better be done. And then you can say goodbye to the world, boy. Cause there's no telling when you're going to see it again." He lets go of the boy and folds the paper back up. "It just became too late to turn back." Without another word he leaves.
"I will Sir," he says quietly, his body reacting like a wildfire to the whole idea of what he's done - what he'll be doing - and the idea of where he's to end up. "I'll be back," he grunts out as he gains his breath then stands there and watches Mark leave the room. "Promise." Chace looks around the room, his heart pounding in his ears; it's happened and he couldn't be happier - terrified as hell, but happy.
Reaching back to scratch his shoulder, a nail rakes across one of the light welts and Chace's eyes go wide. "Aw fuck. Wonder how long the he sat there after I left?" He groans then, eyes closing. "And if my ass...wait, what can they do, ground me?" He knows damn well they can reprimand him, make his next two days living hell, but there's not much he can do about it now except go take his ass chewing.