Louis introduces Bradley James (bjames) to Citadel, Part One
players only. takes place the day after Louis and Bradley sign their contract.



Bradley stands in front of the huge mirror in the washroom, finishing up his preparations. He's wearing the black trousers that were tailored for him for press events, and that fit him like a glove. His white cotton shirt is spotless, the top button of his collar open, showing a hint of chest, and the stark black and white makes his hair gleam under the lights like old gold and his eyes look very blue indeed. He smooths his eyebrows with a finger, checks to be sure there's nothing of lunch left in his teeth, touches the leather cuff on his left wrist, his symbol of ownership from Louis.

Louis had been right, he thinks. You'd have to look very closely to see the cock cage, even under these snug trousers. He takes a deep breath, one more look to be sure everything's in its place, and steps out of the room to see Louis.

His Sir is in what Bradley's starting to think of as 'Louis casual' dress; dark dress shirt and trousers, no tie, shoes polished perfectly. The executive at rest. Bradley shakes his head at himself, and smiles at Louis. "I think I'm ready, if you are," he offers.

"Most certainly," Louis answers, picking up his wallet and keys and leaning in to kiss Bradley the moment he's close enough. "You look good enough to eat," he whispers. "But luckily for you, we have dinner reservations." And he's far too... excited, actually, if he's honest, about showing off his boy to wait any longer.

"Lucky for me indeed," Bradley huffs a little, though he's smiling. "It took me too long to get all this hair going the same way for you to muss it before we even get to the club." The huge, posh club, which he remembers only vaguely. Full of strangers, all of whom work for Louis. He shakes off the little shiver of nerves and squares his shoulders, chin in the air. "We can't have them thinking you've picked up some vagabond off the street, anything like that."

"As if they'd ever think that, seeing you. You look like your young prince," Louis says, taking Bradley's hand and tugging him down the stairs.

"It's really just an act," Bradley assures him, following him down and out into the cool early evening, and to Louis's car. He puts a little swagger into his step on the way, settling his persona around him like a coat. Refusing to feel intimidated just because he's being introduced to an entirely new world tonight, one he's heard about but can't even truly imagine.

"Maybe. But I think most of them will see in you what I do, and anyone who doesn't..." Louis shrugs, his manner making it clear what he thinks of anyone who doesn't approve of his boy. He smiles and unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for Bradley.

"Always so gallant," Bradley murmurs with a smile, getting into the low little car with the ease of practice, now. He shifts, adjusts the cage for comfort, glad he's in the car where none can see. He's still not quite used to its rub and press against him, but the weight is soothing, somehow. Like it's Louis's hand on him.

"Haven't your other boyfriends ever done that?" Louis asks after he's closed the door and gone around to the driver's side. "Held the door open for you, I mean."

"Not really. But then, only two have had cars," Bradley points out. "Not much use for a car in London, after all, not in Uni anyway. We always took the Tube. And since I've started working I haven't dated much, like I told you." He glances sideways at Louis, smiling. "Isn't that a thing you do for girls, anyway?"

"Not the way I was raised," Louis says simply, pulling out of the parking spot. But he glances over, Bradley's smile making him smile. "Would you prefer I not do it?"

"No, it's lovely. I like it." It's a short drive, Bradley knows, and he keeps his eyes looking out the front, watching for the lights of the castle. So he has more time to prepare, he assures himself. "Will we go in the front door, this time, or will we be meeting your goons again for a trip up the back stairs?" He grins again.

Louis chuckles. "Front door this time," he says, reaching across the front seat to rest his hand on Bradley's leg for a moment, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You have full run of the castle now." Knowing that he must be nervous even if he seems to be handling it well.

Bradley smiles a little at Louis's touch. He doesn't *need* it, he tells himself, it's just...nice. Nice, when they're going to a place he's never been. It's like any other place. Like challenging a strange team on the football pitch, he tells himself. Very important to have your game face on. "Then we'll take the place by storm, through the *front* door," he teases at Louis. "Make all the people sit up and notice, yeah?"

"Mais oui, although it's the dining room where you'll really need to show your best poker face," Louis says, giving Bradley's leg another squeeze as they turn off the main road and onto the side one that winds it way up to the castle.

"I'm an actor, after all," Bradley says, proudly. "I've a marvelous poker face. Well. Most of the time." The castle looms large before them, but the windows have lights in them, and it's not as intimidating as it had seemed, being marched in under guard from the security men. He takes a quiet, deep breath to steady himself as Louis pulls up to the grand front entrance. "I'll follow your lead. Since you're the owner, and all." The OWNER of this ridiculously huge place. Bradley still can't quite wrap his mind round that.

"I'm not quite the owner," Louis says, getting out and handing the valet his keys before meeting Bradley on the other side of the car. "The castle belonged to my family a long time ago and now it's held in trust for the members and I simply run it." He smiles at the doormen as they open the huge double doors for them. "Bonsoir."

"Totally the owner," Bradley mumbles under his breath, following Louis in, firmly restraining himself from staring around himself like a country boy who'd never seen a building before. It *is* very grand, though, and he squares his shoulders, jerks his chin up, wishes for the millionth time that he'd been born just a little bit taller, at least. Louis heads straight for a desk that looks like a hotel concierge desk, all carved dark wood, and a gorgeous lady in a suit standing there with a smile; not wishing to be left behind, Bradley hurries to catch him up.

"It's gorgeous," he tells Louis sincerely. He can't wait to see more of it. Even the entryway is full of tapestries, lovely old furnishings, warm and welcoming and not at all cold.

"It is, isn't it?" Louis looks around. As much as he loves having the head office here, and cherishes the old castle, it's always refreshing to see it from someone else's perspective. "Corinne, this is Bradley James. He'll be my guest this evening. We already filed his papers with Marie. Bradley, this is Corinne Desmarais. She is one of our full-time concierges."

"Bonsoir, Monsieur," Corinne says, holding out her hand to Bradley. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Especially since she knows exactly who he is, current as she keeps with all the tabloid and entertainment news, not to mention that word has already traveled fast around the castle that Louis has signed a contract with the boy, filed this very morning.

Bradley gives her his best, brightest smile, takes her hand, and bows over it, lips just brushing the back, courtly as the real Prince Arthur might have been. "Bonsoir, Madame," he answers, then glances at Louis. "Louis, you didn't tell me that the staff was even more beautiful than Citadel itself." Shameless flattery, but she IS gorgeous, and deserves his best flirting.

Corinne blushes, head to toe, almost squirming where she stands. "Thank you, Monsieur. You are too kind." But he's also incredibly gorgeous and she can't wait to tell the rest of the staff she was the first to meet him.

Louis chuckles softly and nods approvingly, signing them both in, his hand on the small of Bradley's back as he turns them away and towards the central hall. "Sir, not Louis," he corrects but gently, casually, nodding at various members as they go.

"Oops." Bradley winces, shakes his head at himself. "Right. Right. Sorry, sir." Louis's hand is warm and steady on his back, though, and his voice hadn't been angry. As they walk further in, he can't help but look about him. The place only gets more beautiful, he thinks, the wide-open main hall wth its arched balustrades, the balcony around the edge of the room with its arched frames.

Then his attention is arrested by a woman, wearing leather and very little of that, walking casually across the floor with a naked girl hurrying behind her, leashed and gagged, on hands and knees. The girl's back is crisscrossed with red marks, long and thin, and he can't help but pause and stare after them. She's really naked. He can see *everything.*

"One of our members and her girl," Louis supplies, watching Bradley watch the women cross the hall.

"That is...something," Bradley says, his voice a little stifled as he works hard to keep it even. Louis had told him, of course, but hearing and seeing are very different things. "They, uh, make a fine looking couple."

Louis chuckles softly, nodding. "Yes, they do. Here," he pulls Bradley to one side and into a very, very large room, which spans the full length and half the height of the castle, ladders spaced all along its second storey to reach the older collections. "This is the library. The central one."

More books than he's ever seen in one place widen Bradley's eyes as he gazes around. Here again, there are people, though it's very quiet, as befits a library. Some naked, some not, some reading, some drinking tea. His eyes skip over them quickly; he has no desire to be caught staring, no matter what's going on. The room has a calming air of quiet and contentment, though, and his shoulders relax just a bit. "It's lovely," he says sincerely.

"You can come in here anytime you'd like, and there's a librarian to assist," Louis says, nodding to a circular desk in the very centre of the room, "if you need help finding anything. Besides a huge collection of mainstream books, mostly first editions, we have every text ever written on or about kink in any language." Aware they're already drawing quite a bit of attention, though it's quiet, mostly surreptitious, people watching them out of the corners of their eyes.

He'd nearly forgotten about his own request for research materials, but Louis's words bring it all back, and he nods, more eager now. "And can we actually take books home, like a public library? Or do they need to be kept here?"

"It depends on whether they're part of the regular collection or the special one. Special collection books are irreplaceable or out-of-print and very hard to find, so they stay here." Louis smiles at Bradley, enjoying his enthusiasm and leans in, kissing him softly on the mouth, knowing he's giving their audience exactly what they want but he could care less.

Bradley hums delightedly into the kiss, going up on his toes to press a little closer, before they break apart. He smiles, eyes only for Louis at this moment. "I trust they'll tell me which is which, and point me to the not-so-special ones if I ask?" Bradley doesn't read in public, but he very much wants to find out more about what might be in some of those books.

"Of course." Louis smiles, wondering again at Bradley's discomfort with reading, but it's not a subject he's going to broach now. "What would you like to see next? Maybe one of our guest suites? It might be better to see one of those before we tour the dungeon."

"Yeah, that sounds great," Bradley says eagerly. Then pauses, and laughs. "Oh my god. I was joking about being dragged off to the dungeon, the day I met you...and you have an actual real live dungeon here. Oh my god!"

"You don't know how tempted I was," Louis teases, guiding Bradley out of the library.

"And you even kept a straight face," Bradley marvels, following closely, looking all around with open curiosity now. Everywhere, he can see beautiful things. People in strange clothes or no clothes at all. He just watches, taking it in, storing memories for later examination and reflection.

"I was too busy watching you and trying to convince myself I shouldn't ask you out," Louis says, taking Bradley's hand and leading him upstairs to the second floor, his eyes widening a little when they reach the landing. For there is Pierre, with one of their trainees bent over the balcony, naked, Pierre's cock going in and out of his ass in full view of anyone passing by. And although he'd known Bradley would see such things here, he was hoping to choose the moment in which he first saw it. "Bonsoir, Pierre."

Bradley, following Louis and peers over the balcony, hears Louis's voice and looks to see who he's talking to. And then his jaw drops and he freezes, mid-step, before forcing himself to snap out of it. He reminds himself fiercely that he's an actor, dammit, he can act even if he's surprised, and forces his face into something like calm.

The big man is fucking a smaller man, both completely naked, in the hall. He can't tear his eyes away from it. He presses close to Louis, his eyes wide, even though he manages to stay silent.

"Bonsoir, Louis," Pierre nods, continuing to fuck the boy beneath him, his strokes slow and deep. "Bonsoir," he nods to the man behind Bradley. "Comment ca va?" the last directed to Louis again.

"Ca va bien. Tres bien," Louis allows with a smile, knowing that if everyone else knows, Pierre certainly does. "Bradley, this is Pierre. He's one of our trainers and has been with Citadel for a very long time. Pierre, this is Bradley James. My boy." Completely ignoring the trainee.

Bradley waves, trying to keep his eyes on one safe place...but there *is* no safe place to look and so he settles on the broad-muscled shoulders of Pierre. "Bonjour, Pierre," he says, trying for polite. Then he straightens himself up. He's not going to have a little real-life porn turn him into some scared, whingey little boy, though his stomach is tight with nerves. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Pierre smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." He nods at Louis. "Felicitations."

"Merci," Louis says, continuing in French, "It's his first time here so we're taking a tour of the castle before dinner."

Pierre nods, again, sliding his hand to the back of the boy's neck and keeping him pinned against the balcony. "I hope you enjoy the tour," he says to Bradley, a little slower, his voice slightly halting, not entirely sure of his English.

"He will," Louis says, squeezing Bradley's hand a little tighter and leading him away from the scene, down the hall and into the first wing of rooms.

As soon as they're alone, Bradley stops, and lets his breath out with a "whuff" sound, leaning back against the wall, bringing Louis to a halt as well through their linked hands.

"That was...something," he says, letting his shock show through a little, now that no one can witness it but Louis. "That guy, the one he was fucking...he didn't make a single sound the whole time." For whatever reason, that's what's standing out to him right now.

"He was probably under orders not to," Louis explains. "It's a common command."

"Oh." Bradley thinks that over, not even realizing how hard he's holding on to Louis's hand. "What if I'd talked to him? Could he have said anything, or would that man--Philippe?--have said something? Or should I just not talk to anybody until I check with you first?"

"If you talked to him, he would have stayed silent and Pierre would have explained, or I would have," Louis says, leaning in and kissing Bradley softly on the mouth. "You can talk to anyone you want. If they're not allowed to talk to you, someone will explain, or if it's not a good time, you'll get the idea."

Bradley kisses back, letting the now-familiar taste of Louis's mouth settle him. "Okay. Okay, that's good," he says, relieved, when Louis pulls back. "I wouldn't want to get anyone in trouble. Okay. Onward?"

Louis nods and they continue down the hall. "You have to remember. All the people here? They know their rules. They know what's expected of them. If they do anything that gets them in trouble, it won't be your fault."

"Right, I'm the sad newbie," Bradley laughs a little, still holding tight, following Louis closely. The art on the walls is gorgeous, much of it is erotic, and he wishes he could have eyes all 'round his head so he could actually see everything. But he's more curious about where Louis is taking him next, so he doesn't pause or even slow, even at the most interesting things.

"You're not sad, but yes, new," Louis says with a smile, stopping at the last door on the right. "Like everyone else here was once." He unlocks the door using his master key and turns on the light just inside. "Go ahead," he says, motioning for Bradley to enter. "You'll find it looks much like any other hotel room. Well, not your hotel room," he adds with a soft laugh.

Bradley trots in through the door, wildly curious, and stops dead in his tracks. "No, not like my hotel room at all," he answers a little absently, staring around himself. "This is crazy!" It's done in an entirely opulent style, dark wood and velvet, satin, everything burgundy and gold and very ornate. It couldn't be more unlike Louis's flat if it had tried, and he turns a slow circle on the spot. The bed is huge, fully twice again as big as anything Bradley's ever seen, and yes, there are discreet little gilded hooks and snaps here and there on the heavy frame. He can barely see an enormous washroom, and what might be a parlour or a huge closet, through a few adjoining doors.

"Are they all different? 'Cause this one looks like it's meant for parties of five or more!"

"Slightly different, yes, but most of them are quite large. Our member prefer a lot of floor space and in most cases, we divided one suite of rooms into two from the old days when the people who lived here each had their own quarters." Louis smiles. "Do you like it?"

"It's fantastic. Like something out of a film, or something." He wanders over to the bed, tests it. Nice and firm. Grins sideways at Louis. "The bed at least is miles past what I sleep on in my hotel. I think that thing is giving me arthritis. Is it okay if I look in the cupboards?" There are large, stylish wooden wardrobes, cupboards, and shelving units around the room, all in keeping with the decor. All with closed doors.

"Of course," Louis says with a small smile, deciding not to warn Bradley. Especially since it's only the two of them here.

The first cabinet Bradley opens is full of towels, dressing gowns, bathrobes, and other bedding and niceties. He runs an appreciative hand over the plush terrycloth, shuts the cabinet, and moves on. The next, a big armoire set against the wall by the bed -- does NOT have towels in, as he realizes immediately upon opening it.

Shelf upon shelf of toys, laid in black velvet cases. Shining silver rings, and clamps. The dark gleam of black leather, whips with many tails. Cuffs, and chains, and plugs, and things he can't even name, they're all there, clearly new and pristine and shining with a certain malevolent promise. He doesn't even realize his jaw has dropped open until he turns, incredulous, to Louis. "This is all...for people to use? Here?" His voice squeaks a little on the last word.

Louis nods, clearly enjoying Bradley's reaction. "And if what they want is not there, they can call the front desk and have it sent up."

"D'you know, I'm not even going to ask what might not be here," Bradley reflects, carefully looking over the trays, not touching anything, but lingering over the plugs and rings; those at least are a familiar shape. "Oh my." Opening another drawer has shown an entire collection of paddles, rods, slappers, and even a leather strap. His body clenches reflexively, remembering the sting and heat of Louis's hand on him, slapping his arse and cock until he was mindless with it. He wonders how different it might be with one of these.

"Do you see something you'd like to try?" Louis asks, moving to stand behind Bradley, body pressing close.

"Wow, I..." Bradley's hand hovers over the drawer, Louis's big, hot body a distraction, and the selection so wide he doesn't even know where to look first. He's drawn to the thick, heavy-looking leather strap, but also to the sleek wood of a slim paddle with a solid handle. "Yes. Yeah. These are amazing. I'd no idea there were so many kinds." He glances over his shoulder. "Which one do YOU like?"

Louis smiles. "I like all of them," he says, truthfully, "but if I were going to bend you over the bed and use something on you right now, I'd choose the paddle," reaching out to run his fingers over the sleek shiny wood.

Bradley's hand follows Louis's, reaching out, touching. The wood is satiny-soft, beautiful. He can't help but imagine what it would feel like. His face flushes red, and his cock, quiet so far in its cage, surges and struggles to lift. He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, the frustrated ache of it making him restless and sparking a little of the calm of subspace, all at the same time. He doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent. Doesn't know if Louis really wishes to interrupt their tour, or if it was hypothetical.

Smile widening, Bradley shifting against him, Louis contemplates the paddle for a moment longer then says, "Pull your trousers down, not all the way, just under your cheeks, and bend over the bed."

If his cheeks were pink before, now they're fire-red, and Bradley freezes for a long instant. Wrapping his mind around the fact that this is really going to happen. He breathes deep and nods, and with hands that only tremble a little, unbuckles his belt. Without thinking too hard about it, he walks to the bed, and shoves his boxer-briefs and trousers down, just as Louis had ordered him to, until they're around his upper thighs, leaving his arse bare. A little shakily, he bends over the bed, his caged cock pushing futilely at the hard plastic, yearning for friction and hardness, thighs trapped close together by the clothing. Every sense hyper-aware, Bradley turns his face to the side so he can watch Louis behind him, through half-lidded eyes.

Paddle in hand, Louis moves behind Bradley. He runs his hand over his boy's cheeks, unable to resist touching him, that bare skin, fingers dipping into that cleft, stroking over that hole that belongs now only to him.

That gentle touch is so welcome, so desired, that a low hum of pleasure is the only sound that Bradley can make. He's gone from nervous, curious explorer of a new space, back into the now-familiar role of Louis's boy, his plaything. He hadn't even realized how much he'd needed this, a taste of the special bond the two of them have amid all this strangeness, but he feels his tension leech away, his bones go liquid, and he arches his back, pressing his ass, his hole, back against that delicious pressure.

Louis lingers there for a moment, his cock responding quickly to the sight and Bradley's obvious eagerness. He slides his fingers lower, caressing the back of his balls and that soft sensitive skin in between.

The featherlight touch is very nearly a tickle, and Bradley shifts his hips with a murmur, frustrated that he can't spread his legs wider, that they're bound together by the waist of his trousers, that his cock is caged, and all of it feeding into the deep, purring satisfaction he gets every time he is like this with Louis. He squirms again, rubbing against the teasing fingers, eyes slitted nearly-closed with pleasure.

Mon dieu. Bradley's so incredibly responsive and that responsiveness translates into a surge of arousal so strong it almost takes Louis's breath away. But finally, almost reluctantly, he draws back, rubbing the wood of the paddle over Bradley's ass.

The contrast between the cool, silk-smoothness of the wooden paddle and the heat of Louis's hand has Bradley shivering, nerve endings really waking up and paying attention. Arousal, less sharp without an erection but deeper, heavier somehow, settles in his belly, his hips, his pelvis, making everything feel loose and warm. He wishes for Louis's fingers and cock but wants the paddle nearly as much, and the tension of waiting makes him squirm yet again against the bed.

"I want you to count out each strike for me," Louis says, the order meant to counter how deeply Bradley might sink, knowing he still wants to show him around the castle. "Do you understand?"

Bradley blinks. This is new. "Mm-hmm," he struggles to say, tongue already thick and heavy and uncooperative in his mouth. He fights back towards clarity, blinking again, fighting the tide that wants to drag him down. If he's expected to count, he can't just let himself drift. It sparks a little coal of discontent inside him, but he knows he must do as he's told.

"Bien." Louis brings the paddle in evenly against both cheeks, at about half strength, knowing the hard wood, the unforgivingness of it, will already be a shock to Bradley's system.

Bradley's used to the sharp sting and smack of Louis's hand, and his hand only; this is a deeper hurt, more thuddy even with the light weight of the paddle. No give to it at all, and Bradley jumps, hissing a curse through his teeth as the impact jolts all the way up to his shoulders. "One," he gasps out, remembering only at the last instant. His eyes are wide open now, his hands in fists by his shoulders, bracing himself. Tense, again, where before he'd been loose and relaxed.

"Tres bien," Louis murmurs, watching those blue eyes go wide, and brings the paddle in again, a little harder this time, his own cock already starting to ache.

The second strike is harder than the first, and the "two!" is jarred roughly out of Bradley, as his toes curl inside his shoes and he breaks out in a light sweat. Already the skin on his arse is burning-warm, tender, and deeper down he can feel the ache. Like it's stoking the fire of his arousal.

The third and fourth are delivered at much the same strength, Louis giving Bradley a moment to announce the count in between, but the fifth is harder still, his cock throbbing, jerking violently with each blow.

"NNNNGH," Bradley shouts through his teeth, not a scream, *not,* even though his eyes are shut tight and his knuckles hurt from how hard he's holding the bedcover to keep himself from scrambling up the bed, away from the sudden shock of the fifth, hardest blow. "F-f-five," he gets out after sucking in air, then panting it back out, trying so hard to stay solid, here, where Louis sees so many others just like him. Where he does this as his JOB. Bradley grits his teeth harder, determined not to break, to show Louis he can take it.

"Good boy." Paddle dropping to his side, Louis asks, "Can you take another five like that? I want an honest answer, not bravado."

Bravado?? Bradley bristles all over at the very word. Does Louis think he's a child, some kind of weakling? What must he be thinking, to ask such a thing of him? "I can, of course I can," he grits out, tight-jawed. Of course he can. It's a paddle, is all. Of course he can.

Fine. If Bradley's determined to learn the hard way, Louis is willing to let him try. He brings in the paddle again, and yet again, giving Bradley only enough time between blows to get his counts out, pausing again, a little longer, after the eighth.

Bradley is remembering that he should be careful what he wishes for. He's glad of the count, it gives him something to focus on besides the screaming, blazing pain in his backside as Louis lays into him, hard and fast, and it hurts so much worse than his hand ever had. Bradley's breath is coming in great heaving gasps by the time Louis pauses, and his count has faded to a thin small sound that he forces out by will alone. But he's stubborn, and even in the pause, even with the pain, he lies still and shaking, eyes closed, lower lip bleeding where he'd bit it on stroke number seven.

"Two more," Louis says finally, delivering both in rapid succession, one right on top of the other, Bradley's backside a bright fire engine red by the time he finishes.

"Ten," Bradley breathes, as the last stroke falls on already-burning skin, and this time he *does* jump, he scrambles a little, slides off the smooth bedspread, and lands on his knees on the floor, shivering, sweating, his knees feeling like they've gone to water. He doesn't look at Louis, hangs his head, tries to pull himself back together after the jarring *thump* to the floor. Unlike usually after he's spanked or hurt, he feels all hot inside, almost angry, like it was too much for his system and he doesn't know what to do with it. He did it, though, he thinks, he took them all, didn't cry out.

"The next time you do that, I'll safeword for you," Louis tells him softly, setting the paddle aside and reaching down to help him to his feet. "It's not a contest and the goal isn't to see how much you can take."

The words are startling, almost as shocking as the pain, and even as Bradley staggers against Louis, all off-balance and shaky, he looks up at him, eyes wide. "S-safeword *for* me?" he asks, voice hoarse with the screams he held in and thin with confusion. "It, you can do that? What do you mean, it wasn't. I can take it. Just as much as any of *them.*" He jerks his chin mutinously, indicating the whole rest of the club in one gesture. Ignoring the fact that he's leaning on Louis, wrapped around him, letting him take most of Bradley's unsteady weight.

"I have no doubt you can," Louis says a little sadly, surprised by Bradley's reaction. "But do you really think that's what I want? Do you think if I was looking for a carbon copy of the boys I train each day I would have waited this long to take a boy of my own? And do you really believe that's what I teach them? To ignore their own well-being in order to prove themselves?"

Blinking rapidly, Bradley absorbs this. He...hadn't really thought of it that way. He leans his cheek against Louis's chest, some of the bluster falling away from him. The idea that he might have just done something rather stupid starts to tickle at him. "It's just a little paddle," he says into Louis's shirt, voice small. "I saw what was in those drawers, things WAY stronger than just that paddle...I just didn't want to, and there were only *ten,* that's not many at all, and it just. I didn't want." He trails off, not sure how to tell Louis that here, of all places, he didn't want Louis to think less of him. Think him weak, at all.

Louis's chest tightens and he kisses the top of Bradley's head, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. "I love you," he whispers, knowing that it might be too soon to give voice to it, but it's not something he wants to keep to himself any longer and it's important to what he's saying. "And I don't want you ever thinking you have anything to prove to me. I know how strong you are, and how brave you are, but this is a journey we're taking together and I need you to trust me."

There's something Louis is saying, about trust and a journey, relationshippy things, but Bradley's mind had sort of whited out after hearing the part with "I love you" in. He looks up, searching Louis's face with wide eyes, struck totally silent for a moment. Louis's handsome face is sincere in every line, his mouth in a little smile, and there's something heartbreaking and honest and open in his eyes that Bradley's rarely seen before. In anyone.

"I do trust you," he answers, finally. "I do. I can be a prat, I know, and an arse and that probably won't change, but do you think I'd even bother trying if I didn't care so awfully much about what you think of me? I'm stupid over you. Completely gone. And you...you love me. You said it, I heard you." Suddenly a smile is breaking out on his face, wide and delighted and shining.

"Yes, I did, and I meant it," Louis nods, matching that smile. He kisses Bradley hard on the mouth then a little more softly. "And I know you trust me to do things to you, but you also have to trust me to be happy with us and with you and not think I'm comparing you to anyone else." As if he really could.

Bradley kisses back, happily, before pulling back just a little. "That's...I will try, I'll do my damndest. But I'm just a regular bloke, even if a bit prettier than the average--more than a bit, maybe--and you can't expect me not to try to live up to--" he waves a hand around. "This. A little. In my own way, anyway. It's like learning French, I'm living here now and I've got to learn the language, even if I'm piss-poor at it."

"Fair enough," Louis says, nodding and kissing Bradley again. "I will try to keep that in mind, but even with French, you're not suddenly going to be completely fluent. You need to learn the basics, the building blocks, before you can go further."

That makes Bradley laugh for real. "Fluent? I can barely introduce myself properly and I've been trying to learn for a YEAR now," he leans up and kisses Louis, hard, trying to show through action what he can't put into words. How stunned and amazed he is that Louis has told him these things, that he's still standing here, holding Bradley, kissing him. "Hopefully I'll be a bit more quick with this," he murmurs against Louis's mouth. "But I'll try to be patient, with the building blocks."

"That's all I can ask," Louis says with another soft smile. "Now, if you want to pull your trousers up, or take them off," he teases, shrugging lightly, "whatever's more comfortable, we can finish our tour."

Now Bradley can hear that tease in Louis's voice, and though his cheeks redden a little again at just the thought, he laughs from his cozy spot in Louis's arms. "Pull them up," he decides, "definitely. After all, my arse is quite red just now. Better not show it off to everyone and his brother or I'll blush through the floor."

"We wouldn't want that," Louis says, suddenly rather reluctant to move again, what with his beautiful warm boy pressed against him, "but I'm going to pull them up. I think it might hurt a little less that way."

"Okay," Bradley says, strangely eager to let Louis re-dress him. He's the one caused the pain, still simmering through him, every time he moves, like a terrible sunburn on his arse. He can be the one to pull up Bradley's trousers, still snugged around his upper thighs. He's glad he'd worn the tight black ones, or they'd be at his ankles by now, and he'd be clinging to Louis for support, as well as comfort.

With the cage on, it's even easier to tug Bradley's trousers up over his ass and tuck his cock and the cage back into them. The trousers fit well though, the boxer briefs even moreso, and there's no avoiding both fabrics brushing over Bradley's still warmed and reddened skin.

A little gasp and flinch are Bradley's only reaction, though he does take the chance to sway against Louis, wanting the closeness after their strange little almost-fight just now. He's reassured by Louis's obvious erection, by the tender way he tucks him in and tidies him up, by every move he makes. By the time Louis is finished with his belt he's feeling much better, put back together in more ways than one, and he smiles his gratitude up at Louis.

"Ready for the rest of the tour?" Louis asks, still holding Bradley close, unwilling to let him go until the moment they make the decision to actually move on.

Bradley takes a deep breath and blows it out, resolving to let go of his lingering...whatever it is, with the breath. He nods firmly. "Yeah. Ready." He looks around the opulent room once more, taking in all the details, the cupboard full of mysterious things he doesn't understand yet, and then steps out of Louis arms. "Ready to go."

"Good." Louis locks up behind them and texts the front desk that the room needs to be seen to. He links his fingers with Bradley's and shows him the office, which he's already seen, and one of the lounges before opening up one of the training rooms. It's empty at this time of night but that seems like a good thing given Bradley's penchant for comparison.

"Wow," Bradley breathes, staring around as Louis leads him into a huge room that's nearly empty, but for the padding on the walls and the occasional chain, wooden beam, or strange structure scattered about. It's got no one using it just now, and Bradley feels free to break away from Louis and go exploring, rambling around the room and examining everything. He stops at the first complex wooden...thing...he reaches, and looks back at Louis curiously. "What's this?"

"It's a bondage table," Louis explains, watching Bradley make his way around the room. "Or an incline table. Once you have the submissive bound to it you can rotate it so that they're upright, inclined, or, if you've really secured them well, completely upside-down."

Bradley tilts his head, trying to imagine it. Bound and totally unable to move, tilted back and forth so Louis could reach whatever part of him he liked. It's a titillating thought, but he hasn't really been tied up yet, so he can''t imagine it in detail.

"And this one?" Moving on to a plain frame with straps hanging down. There's what almost looks like a swing in it, and though he imagines it's for sitting in, he can't imagine someone *swinging* for fun here. Especially not with all those chains hanging about.

"That's a sling," Louis says, providing the name, his head tilting slightly as he ponders the best explanation. "You can sit or lie down in it, like a hammock, and the dominant can take advantage of the fact that you're now immobile but moveable. They're very popular for fucking and for fisting, and for anything where you want the submissive to be comfortable but unable to move on their own."

"I like that one," Bradley decides, reaching out curiously to touch the smooth softness of the seat. A visible shudder runs through him as he imagines what Louis could do to him in something like this, and he shifts, cock trying to get hard *again* inside the confining cage. He scowls downwards. You'd think it might've gotten the memo by now, but no, his stubborn body is still following lifelong urges.

"We'll sneak in here another night," Louis promises, eyes sparkling. "Comfortable?"

"Not really," Bradley confesses honestly. He squirms his hips again. "Of all the places in the world to have a cock cage, this has to be the worst. Well, here and your flat, I guess. I swear my dick's rubbing itself raw in there just trying to get hard." He glances at Louis hopefully. "Does it ever get...less? In the cage, I mean."

"Truthfully?" Louis sighs, smiling, pretty sure Bradley doesn't want to hear what he's going to tell him. "Yes, eventually, but only if you were wearing it most of the time. With us doing a day here and there like we are," he shakes his head, "probably not."

Bradley pouts. "Well. I...suppose that's probably to be expected," he sighs, shifts again, moves back to Louis's side so he can look round the room with a better perspective. "It's a bit cold, isn't it? Empty? It feels like a storage unit almost." He tries to picture it full of people and can't quite manage it. "Why would you use this room instead of your own?"

Louis gives Bradley a look, before reminding himself that no, the boy wouldn't know. "Because they're trainees. Our job is to get them ready to deal with clients, or to perform a certain way for their dominants, not... to have them become attached to us. This makes that easier." He pauses. Strangely enough, it's a question no one's ever asked him before. "Besides, my quarters are private. I wouldn't want to make them open to just anyone."

The more Bradley sees of this place, the more he realizes that it really *is* different, what he has with Louis. Instead of making him feel like one of many, it's serving unexpectedly to highlight the ways in which he's *not.* A satisfied, catlike little smile curls the corners of his mouth, and he slips his hand into one of Louis's pockets, pressing close. "So the ones who come to your rooms, they're special," he states the obvious. "You realize of course that I'll gloat terribly when you're doing unspeakable things to me in your bed, later."

"But of course," Louis says, smiling, leaning in to kiss Bradley. "And you are special. You're the only one who's ever been my boy." Although he's quickly realizing that Bradley doesn't have the frame of reference to understand what a momentous thing that is. "Are we done in here? Would you like to see the ballroom and the dungeon?"

"Oh yes," Bradley nods, licking his lips to get the last trace of the kiss, to be sure he hasn't missed any. "So, this training room, it's rather like a gym. For practicing and training and such. And the dungeon, it's different because it's...the real event? The real thing? Not practice anymore?" He's wrapping his mind round it, and that makes sense to him.

Louis nods. "Yes. Our members don't have use of the training rooms. They use a room like the one we were in earlier or they use the dungeon or one of the specialty rooms."

"Huh, okay," Bradley nods again, and smiles up at Louis. "So if you were going to sneak me in so we can try that sling, it'd be *doubly* naughty, right? Though..." he cocks his head, "...is it really breaking the rules if you are the one who made them in the first place?" He steps away a little, ready for Louis to lead him on. He's wildly curious about this dungeon.

"No, it's not," Louis declares firmly, but with a small smile crooking the corner of his mouth. He takes Bradley's hand again and leads him downstairs, showing him first the ballroom before they make their way down one more level to the dungeon.

With just a few steps, they go from the airy, bright, gorgeously appointed ballroom into what can only be described as a scene out of some medieval film, in Bradley's mind. He crowds close to Louis, wide-eyed, at the first scream filtering through the air, and as they descend the stone steps into the main hallway with cells on each side, his jaw drops open a little. The barred cells, the flickering light of the lamps on the walls, the people in the cells, some naked, some in chains, some clearly in ecstasies of pain or pleasure or both...he finds himself blinking rapidly, not sure where to look, the solid warmth of Louis's big body and steady presence the only thing keeping him from turning tail and scampering back up those stairs.

"And here I thought you'd be used to some of this," Louis says, although he's thrilled to have any excuse to wrap his arm around Bradley and tug him even closer. "Filming at the castle of yours and down in the caves."

"They call 'cut' and everything goes back to normal and catering brings down bottled Evian," Bradley protests, unable to take his eyes off the window across from them. A huge man is doing something to another man who seems to be in some sort of hammock-ish thing, and Bradley can't see properly, but there are *sounds* coming out of that room, and he's not sure if he wants to know. He's pretty sure he does, but can't bring himself to walk closer. Louis's arm is very welcome and steadies him, though, and he tilts his head. "What's going on in there?"

"Fisting." Louis motions towards the room with his free hand. "Would you like to see? They wouldn't be doing it where people can watch if they didn't want us to," he adds, wanting to make sure Bradley knows it's okay to be curious here.

"I've seen fisting before, seen it on video," Bradley amends quickly. "But never quite...that's kind of..." He can hear high, thin sounds of distress from the room, raw and needy, and there's the hammock--sling, he thinks he remembers Louis calling it--and between Louis's arm around him and that SOUND that the boy in the room is making, the way the cool air prickles along his arms, his body is fighting so strongly to get hard that his hips, his belly ache with the sharp frustration of it.

"Come on," Louis murmurs, leading Bradley closer to the room. "See that wooden shingle," he says, pointing to the rectangular piece of wooden hanging down from its hinges beside the door. "That means they want an audience. It's an open invitation. If it was flipped up, it would indicate they didn't want anyone else in there." He nods towards the inside of the room, indicating the chairs to the side closest to the door. "See?"

Eyes wide, Bradley looks in through the window. He can still mostly see the back of the large man, the rhythmic movement of his shoulder and the rock of his hips, which match precisely with the gasps and moans of the half-visible boy in the sling. He looks naked. Bradley shivers, tucks himself closer to Louis. "Can we...can we go in? Just for a minute?"


continued here



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